Joan laughed as she set the pile of linens on the bench. “Dinnae think I be nudging. Think I be giving it a hearty kick or two.” She grew serious as she sat on the bench. “Annys, they couldnae have killed Sir Adam for crimes he committed for they really had no proof, only the word of that fool in the cell and what good is a hired sword accusing a knight? Biddy may have been seen as a good witness if we could have ever made her speak out against her lover, but she was the one who killed David. There would have been only her word that it had been ordered by Sir Adam. That family of his may nay be one ye want to claim as kin but they are nay without their own power.”
“Aye, it just wouldnae have worked. But now he will be openly attacking us when we have done naught. He cannae lie his way out of that. Witnesses will abound. If the fool survives this he will be hanged. Our David wasnae without his own powerful friends and they willnae allow Sir Adam to escape justice for an unprovoked attack upon his widow and child.”
“I ken it. They have people at court, Sir Adam e’en served in the king’s army for a time, they have a kinsmon as a sheriff, and they have wed daughters to some verra powerful men. David has much the same number of powerful people on his side. Yet, ye sound verra certain that Sir Adam will be the one who loses this fight.”
“I am. We have Sir Harcourt and his men, and we have Nicolas. Our men have trained until they are nay only far more skilled than they were but have far more pride and surety in themselves as fighting men. We also have something that bastard doesnae have.”
“And what is that?”
“A deep, abiding love for Glencullaich. This is our home. This is a blessed place that enjoys more peace than most. Yet Sir Adam brings war to our gates because of nay more than his own greed. We also loved our laird and he didnae want this bastard to have Glencullaich. So we will do all we can with the help of Sir Harcourt and his fine friends to make sure he ne’er claims it.”
“Such fire,” Annys murmured. “It makes me believe all will be weel.”
“Good. Now help me tear these rags.”
“Didnae we do enough?”
“Best to have too many than nay enough, aye? And have already had to use some on that young Ned MacFingal. He got poked by an arrow.”
Despite wishing they would not tempt her maids as much as they did, Annys liked the MacFingals and felt her heart skip with fear. “Is he weel?”
“Och, aye. The arrowhead only went in a wee bit because he was running away. The lad is fast on his feet. Now, come help me with these and then we shall go see if we have enough salve, herbs, and the like.”
Annys sat down and began the tedious work of tearing the cloth into strips for bandaging wounds. It was difficult not to think of what they would be needed for, but she did her best to adopt Joan’s more hopeful view of the future. The woman was right about the motives involved. The people of Glencullaich would be fighting for the home they loved. Sir Adam was fighting for the riches of the land he hoped to bleed away. That their motives for fighting were more honorable than his should count for something. Annys just prayed that it would be enough to bring them a victory.
Harcourt winced and shifted his body on the ground until the rock stopped digging into his ribs. He and Nicolas were well hidden in a low-ceilinged cave in the hills. They had had to crawl inside and would not be standing upright again until they crawled back out. Harcourt was discovering that he did not like crowded narrow spaces, especially ones where a man was surrounded by rock. It felt too much like a tomb.
What he could see below them, in a pretty little valley that usually held only cattle, was discomforting. Sir Adam was gathering an army, although he could not see the man himself. The man’s force almost matched Glencullaich’s now but more men continued to join the group. Seeing all the armed men, the cache of weapons, and the horses, Harcourt was certain that Sir Adam’s family was giving him a lot of help despite their denials.
“What of bringing our men to fight this army here, while they still gather?” he asked Nicolas.
“Verra tempting but I hesitate to do it,” Nicolas replied. “Only a few of the men we have been training have actually been in or e’en seen a battle. I cannae be certain how they would fare when away from the safety of the walls, and the actual hacking and slashing begins. It wouldnae take many of them losing the stomach for the bloody business, mayhap running away, which could start a rout that would make them all easy prey.”
“Yet ye think they will fare weel defending the walls? Blood will be spilt there as weel. No one can fight a bloodless war.”
“True, but it willnae be a bloodletting close at hand. The men willnae be sword point to sword point. E’en if the enemy tries to scale the walls it willnae be as harsh. Bodies would fall ere one of the men actually saw what he had just done to another mon too clearly unless it was particularly gruesome. There isnae the chance of walking o’er a blood-soaked field of body parts, some of which might belong to kin or a friend, and, aye, e’en the stench of battle is less.”