Chapter Seven
Brett was impressed by Triona’s skill on a horse. She did not slow them down at all, leading them with a swift grace to the pasture where the sheep had been grazing. It surprised him that the Banuilt men with her were nearly as good as she was, for he knew that they were just villagers, not born into a life of horses and weapons. However, the way they had all responded to the report of the theft of their flock revealed that they had skills that he could hone as he trained them. It had also surprised him that it had taken Sir John two days to try anything after the arrival of even more men at Banuilt, for he had been sure the man would have immediately tested the new, added strength of the place.
When Triona halted and quickly dismounted, Brett moved fast to reach her side, his sword drawn as he watched for any threat to her. She grabbed a bag from her saddle and rushed to where two men were sprawled on the ground. Brett told her men to guard them well and then told his own to have a good look around the area. If there was any sign of the thieves, Harcourt and the others would find it. He could see that the MacFingals with them were already tracking the thieves, as well. The best discovery they could make would be a trail that led straight to Sir John Grant’s gates, for it would give them hard proof of his crimes against Banuilt.
“Alive?” he asked Triona as she knelt by the two unconscious men and looked them over.
“Aye,” she replied. “Naught but a sound knock on the back of the head for Ian and what looks to have been a hard blow to the jaw for Robbie.” She took a rag from her bag, wet it with some water from her wineskin, and began to gently clean off the men’s wounds. “I think they will rouse soon.”
“So the thieves may still be close at hand.”
“We always seem to be too late to catch them. We wouldnae have kenned about this attack so quickly if I hadnae started to put a watch o’er the fields and stock.”
Brett thought on the young boy who had run to them with the news about the theft of the sheep. “Ye use the children.” She blushed, looking distressed and guilty, and he hastened to add, “I meant nay criticism of it.”
“I cannae help but think that I deserve some. About a fortnight ere ye arrived, I had the thought that a warning of some kind might be enough to gain us a chance to catch the ones doing this to us. Yet I have so few men to defend the manor and village, I couldnae think of how to do that. That was when I thought the children could help. Only the older children, with the youngest amongst them watching the land nearest the safety of the walls. Poor Donald fell asleep, or we would have already learned that e’en a quicker warning wouldnae help. He was watching o’er the cattle that were taken.”
She sighed and sat back on her heels, waiting for the men to wake. “Since it hasnae worked as I had hoped it would, I might as weel end it and send the children home.”
“But it has worked,” said Brett. “If luck is with us, we may e’en catch the men who did this. I do think we have a verra good chance of retrieving many of the sheep that were taken, e’en if the thieves get away. We arrived here but moments after the thieves fled with the sheep.”
“How do ye ken that?”
Brett pointed to the marks upon the ground all around them. “This is all but newly done. And the wounds the men have shouldnae keep them asleep for verra long, yet they dinnae show any sign of rousing yet. I suspicion the men who did this are nay too far away, especially as they are herding sheep as they flee. Or attempting to.”
Triona laughed shortly and shook her head. “I was so concerned about my men that I didnae think about the sheep.” She looked at the dog that was resting its head on Ian’s narrow chest. “Those men certainly willnae get verra far with ease, without the help of Dun here. E’en if the men escape us, they will be leaving many if nay all of the sheep behind.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned down at the two unconscious men. “Yet, in its way, this is blood spilled, isnae it. And I placed a child near all this.”
“This is naught of any true importance. This was but a way to keep from hurting these men e’en more than this. I ken that, looking at them lying there like that, ye may find this hard to believe, but this really isnae blood spilled. This is trying verra hard to nay spill any blood. The thieves didnae ken about the lad watching them. It would have been quicker, safer, and would have better ensured a successful escape if they had killed these men. E’en if they had seen the child, I doubt they would have hurt him, so ye got the warning ye so needed.”
“Weel, ye may be right, but I still believe I shall think hard about any continued use of the children.”
“While ye think on it, keep in mind that Callum has said nothing. If he thought the children ill-used or placed in danger, he would have told ye so.”
“Ah, I hadnae thought on that. Aye, he would have.”
“And I will now go and help my friends with their hunting, as ’tis easy to see that there is no threat here for ye. We may be fortunate and finally gain ye the proof ye need to point the finger of blame for all your troubles right at Sir John.”
Triona watched Brett leave and sighed again. It would indeed be good if they caught some of Sir John’s men, but she was not sure that would give her the proof she needed to openly accuse Sir John of causing all the trouble at Banuilt. Whoever they caught could simply claim that they had done all of it without their laird’s knowledge. Sir Brett did not appear to understand just how hard it would be for her to accuse Sir John of anything without bringing more trouble down upon her shoulders. Not only was the man close friends with their liege laird but he had many friends, and even some kinsmen, in the king’s court. Sir John’s kin might be distant, the blood tie thin, but they would stand behind him before they would ever listen to her. Their liege laird had already shown her how little weight her word carried in comparison to Sir John’s.
Ian groaned, drawing her attention. She quickly ordered two men to come and help her. It was several moments before either Robbie or Ian was conscious enough to sit up, but her concern over how badly they were hurt quickly faded. Sir Brett had judged the matter right. The injuries done the two men were just enough to allow the thieves to escape.
“Them bastards took our flock,” grumbled Ian as he looked around, all the while patting Dun, and then he glanced at Triona and blushed. “Pardon, m’lady.”
She waved aside his apology. “They deserve whate’er one wishes to call them. Weel, mayhap ’tis fair to say that their laird, Sir John, deserves it. Did ye e’en see who it was, Ian?”
“I didnae see anything. Just felt me head break all of a sudden.”
“I saw them, m’lady,” said Robbie, rubbing his hand over his bruised jaw. “They were Sir John’s men. Nay doubt about it. I saw Duncan, a mon I have kenned for years and who was wooing me cousin Meg e’er this trouble started. Nay sure about the one what hit me, but he did say he was sorry. And isnae that a strange thing, aye?”
“Aye, but it strengthens a feeling I have had recently,” said Triona. “I have begun to wonder if the men simply do Sir John’s bidding, and do so verra reluctantly. I just couldnae believe his men could be as incompetent as they appear to be.” She stood up and brushed off her skirts. “Let us get ye both back to the manor now.”
“Och, nay, m’lady,” said Ian. “We need to wait and see if any of the flock is returned. E’en if it is, we may still have to go asearching for some. We will be fine. We were nay hurt bad.”
“Then I shall leave some of these men with you. Sir Brett, Sir Brian, and their men may have some need of all of ye when they return. Sir Brett believed the thieves couldnae have gotten far.”
“Hope the mon proves to be right.”
So did Triona. She briefly thought about staying, waiting for Sir Brett herself, and then shook that thought aside. He knew what was needed, as did the MacFingals. There was no need of her staying here any longer. She mounted her horse and, with three men to guard her, made her way back to the manor.
Brian sat on his horse next to Brett and shook his head as they watched the thieves struggle to move the sheep along. “Idiots.”
“Nay, just nay shepherds. Sir John sent the wrong men after the flock.”
“Weel, that may be true, but I was thinking more on how they are nay paying any mind to anything but those cursed sheep. Our men have them completely encircled and they havenae e’en noticed. So, do we kill the fools, or nay?”
“Nay. Most of the people at Banuilt dinnae seem to really blame Sir John’s men. And it appears there has always been a lot of mingling amongst the two clans. I would just as soon catch them alive, too, for one ne’er kens when one of them may have had enough of this and will be willing to tell us—and anyone else—just what his laird has been doing.”
“Alive it is, then.”
Brian signaled the men surrounding the thieves by bellowing out a war cry that left Brett’s ears ringing. Laughing softly, he rode toward Sir John’s men. The capture of the six thieves was so quick and easy that Brett was a little disappointed. The hunt and preparing for the capture had fired his blood for a fight, but Sir John’s men, after a fruitless scramble to run away, offered none.
He ordered the captives to herd the sheep back to where they had found them, as he, Brian, and the others rode guard on them. It was a slow journey, for none of Sir John’s men appeared to know anything about how to handle sheep. The MacFingals proved more skilled at it, and Brett suspected that skill harked back to a past that included a lot of raids. After turning the flock over to Ian and Robbie, they then herded the captives back to the manor.
“A shame they didnae fight,” said Brian as he dismounted and stood next to Brett to watch the prisoners taken away. “I was hoping for just a wee battle.”
“Still nay back in your wife’s favor?” Brett grinned when Brian glared at him.
“She is being stubborn. I told her what ye said I should, and she has ceased to glare and bellow at me, but she says she needs to consider what to do next. I have no idea what she means by that. Told her that her considering better nay include leaving me. She rolled her eyes at me and walked away.”
Brett laughed. “She is just making ye suffer for a wee while.”
“I thought that may be it. Weel, at least there is work to do here. That lass of yours needs help, and it does me good to offer some.”
“She isnae really my lass, Brian.”
“Why not? I see the way she looks at ye when ye are nay looking at her, which is rare. She could be your lass, and she would be a good one to choose.”
“Because of all this?” Brett asked, spreading his arms to indicate Banuilt.
“That doesnae hurt, but nay. Just something in the way she looks at ye. ’Tis nay just a lusting. Nay a look like some of the other lassies here are giving the men. There is more, and it is the more that does a mon good.”
“I ken it. I am just nay sure it would be right of me to act upon it.”
“Weel, think on it then. I need some ale to wash the dust from my throat and clear the stink of sheep from my head.”
Brian strode toward the manor and Brett followed him. He liked the idea that there was more in the looks Triona gave him than a mere lusting. He had had his share of women who gave him the simple lust he had looked for but had quickly tired of them. It had not been anywhere near as fulfilling as what he had shared with Brenda, and he knew that was because what they had shared had been that more Brian spoke of. He wanted that again, but he was not sure his own guilt and ghosts would allow it.
Triona and her women had drink and some light fare ready for them, and Brett sat down to enjoy it. He smiled at her when she sat down across the table from him and smiled a little wider when she blushed faintly. There was more there than lust between them, and it tempted him to try for it more and more each day.
“So the sheep have been returned to their field?” she asked.
“They have,” he replied. “Ian said a few were missing but that Dun would soon collect them. Sir John sent out men who had nay idea of how to move a flock of sheep, and were easily followed and caught. I assume ye will want to talk to them.”
“Aye, although I doubt they will give up their laird. Bad as he is, he is their laird, and the Gormfeurach men are verra loyal. They truly do see the laird as almost part of the land they have been born in and love.”
“And thus far he hasnae asked them to kill anyone.”
“There is that. Although—” She hesitated to speak of her doubts about what had really happened to her men.
“Although what?”
“Weel, I have begun to wonder about my men again,” she confessed, and began to think on how to explain her worries and suspicions without sounding foolish.
“The ones who left ye in a keep with nay a decent guard, just so they could go and fight for someone else?” asked Brian.
Triona sighed. “I ken it was bad of them, but, weel, ye would have had to have been here. We had all suffered from the fever. Most everyone had a loved one die. Naught got done as we fought to save those we could and bury the far too many we couldnae save. So the harvest was going to be poor, the weaving nay done, many of the skilled workers were gone and would need to be replaced, and what money we had here was going to have to be used to fill the larder. Then some man comes along and tells them of a way to get some money doing something they have been doing all their lives, using their skill with a sword. It was too tempting and, mayhap, they just needed to get away from this place for a wee while.”
Brian slowly nodded. “Aye, I can see that. But ye now wonder if they actually did that?”
“Aye, for there has been no word from them. I ken few of them could write, but there must be priests and monks in France, men who would write a letter that could be sent. And, aye, I ken it would take a long time to get here, but it has been almost two years. We havenae e’en had a dead or wounded mon returned here for burying or tending to. That isnae usual, is it?”
“Nay, it isnae,” said Brett. “My men and I thought the same, but we havenae been able to find out much.”
“I trailed them to the far edge of Gormfeurach land, but havenae been able to get any farther than that. Lost the trail and havenae been able to get back there and try to find it,” said Harcourt.
“Why would they ride west?” asked Brian. “Ye need to ride east if ye are going to find a port and sail off to France.”
Everyone stared at Brian, who just shrugged. Then Triona looked at Brett, who was scowling in thought. “He is right. Why would the trail go west, unless they followed an established road and planned to turn east later?”
“I think we need to have a talk with Sir John’s men,” said Brett as he stood up.
Triona hurried to follow him as he strode off, and noticed that Sir Brian and a few others came along, as well. “I cannae believe that Sir John’s men would help him do harm to mine.”
“That may be true, but that doesnae mean they dinnae ken anything at all.”
When she saw the men in the dungeon, Triona tried not to feel bad for them. They might be reluctant to follow the orders of their laird, but they were still doing so. A few days in the dungeon was the least they deserved.
“M’lady,” said one of the men she suddenly recognized as the Duncan whom Ian had mentioned. He stood up with the others and bowed to her.
“We have come to ask ye a few questions,” said Brian. “I was wondering what ye might ken about the near thirty men who left here to go to France.”
Duncan frowned. “Just that they left. Heard they decided to try to recoup some of the coin lost when the fever struck and because the harvests were bad.”
“Ever hear of a mon called Birk?” asked Triona.
“Weel, he has been round at the keep once or twice but nay for many months now. The laird brought him back from some trip he had taken to a neighboring laird. We didnae have much to do with the mon.” He glanced back at the other men, who shook their heads to indicate that they had had nothing to do with the man, either.
“Who was Birk?” asked Brett.
“The mon Joan says convinced my men to go to France to fight,” she replied.
Triona nodded when everyone stared at her. She could see by the scowls forming on the faces of Brett and the others that the implications of Sir John knowing such a man were clear to them as well. It was hard to see how he could have arranged the disappearance of thirty strong men, but she was even more convinced that Sir John had done just that. She could only pray that he had not had them all killed.
“Ye think our laird took your men?” asked Duncan.
“They were convinced to go to France by a mon named Birk, and your laird had a mon named Birk visiting him at about the same time. Aye, I begin to think Sir John had a lot to do with the loss of all of my garrison.”
“But why would he . . .” Duncan stuttered to a halt and then cursed softly. “Left ye undefended, didnae it.”
“Exactly. I dinnae suppose ye ken where the mon Birk came from.”
“Nay, m’lady. As I said, the laird went off as he often does, returned with the mon, and then, after one or two more visits, there has nay been any sight of him.”
“Ye cannae think our laird killed your men, can ye?” said a tall, thin youth.
Triona looked at the young man and nearly winced. The youth was attempting to look insulted, even disbelieving, but he could not hide all his doubt. Sir John had lost the faith of his men. They did as they were told, doing their best to lessen the severity of the results of the laird’s orders, but they no longer trusted him. Deny it though they wanted to, every single man in her dungeon now feared that their laird had had a hand in the disappearance of her garrison.
“Nay, I dinnae think he had them killed,” she said, and prayed she was right to think so. “But I think he had a part in their disappearance.”
“Ye mean in their sudden need to go to France,” said Duncan.
“Nay, I begin to think they ne’er went there. There has been nary a word, Duncan. None of the wives, or betrotheds, or mothers, or children have heard a word. Nothing. There hasnae even been the return of the dead or wounded, and ye ken as weel as I do that any one of my men would wish to be buried here, nay in France.”
“And the trail led to the far edge of Gormfeurach,” said Brett. “I dinnae think a mon can reach a port and a ship to France that way.” He nodded when Duncan paled.
“If he had a hand in the loss of your men, I cannae think what he has done with them, m’lady,” Duncan said after a moment of heavy silence. “I truly cannae. I wish I could help.”
She believed him and nodded. Brett and Brian asked the men a few more questions, but she paid little mind, all of her thoughts on where her men might be. Triona did her best to push aside the fear that they were all dead. She loathed Sir John, but even she found it difficult to believe he would kill all those men. If nothing else, they would be of use when he got what he wanted and sat his arrogant arse in the laird’s chair at Banuilt.
By the time they all returned to the great hall and she had had food and drink sent down to the prisoners, Triona had gone from being afraid to angry to afraid and back to angry. She tried very hard to cling to the anger. If nothing else, she could not bear to think that Joan may have lost her beloved Aiden.
“We need to look harder for those men,” said Brett as he sat down and poured himself a tankard of ale. “Mayhap they did go to France, but I begin to think something else has befallen them. The question is, where could a mon keep near thirty men?”
“It would have to be on some land he owned or kenned was abandoned, and it would have to be in a verra secure place. Ye cannae just chain up that many men, I would think,” said Brian.
“Guards and supplies would be needed,” said Callum. “That may be where to begin the search for answers.”
“Aye, he has the right of it,” agreed Brian. “E’en if ye were nay feeding them weel, ye would still need a lot of food and need it regularly. Somewhere there is a merchant who has gained himself a verra good customer. And anyone near where the men are being held would have to ken something about it all. Many wouldnae question whate’er some laird is doing, but they would see and they would remember.”
“Then we need to go back to where Harcourt lost the trail,” said Brett. “Ye cannae move that many men without someone seeing something.”
“He wouldnae have killed them, would he?” Triona asked, needing some reassurance from men who knew more about such things than she did.
“It wouldnae have been wise,” replied Brett. “Murder isnae something that can be hidden weel, and he wouldnae be able to have his friends save him if it was discovered. It would also have been verra difficult to keep such a thing a secret. He would need enough men to do the killing and the burying and then, if he truly wished to keep it secret, he would have needed to silence those men, too. Nay, killing so many men and hiding the fact would be too difficult. He has either sent them all to France to some fate there, or he has them somewhere in this country.”
“And I would wager it isnae all that far away,” said Brian. “He may nay have much to do with holding them, but he would need to send coin or supplies, and he would want to be able to bring them back as quickly as possible if he got ye to the altar.”
“I hope we find them, for I cannae think that wherever they are, they are being treated verra weel,” she said. “And I think we should nay say much about this to my people. I dinnae wish to get their hopes up, for we cannae be sure now exactly what has happened to the men.”
“Agreed,” said Brett, and the other men nodded. “We will find them, lass. Ye have some of the best hunters in the land sitting right here swilling your ale. If they are out there, we will find them.”
“Thank ye for that,” she said and then stood up, all the men hastily scrambling to their feet. “I really cannae thank ye enough for all ye have done already, and now there is this. I pray we find them, but I will always ken how ye helped and be grateful for it, nay matter what unfolds. And now I believe I will retire. It has been a verra long day.”
Brett watched her leave as he sat back down. She had looked so sad, yet held herself straight and showed no sign of weakness. He knew how deeply she cared for all the people at Banuilt, and this had to be breaking her heart.
“Weel, I hope we do find them,” said Brian. “I hate to e’en think of so many men riding off thinking they were about to have an adventure, see new places, and get some coin, only to be cut down by some hired swine.”
“If we find them alive, we will be dealing with men who have been imprisoned for almost two years. I am nay sure that is all that much better a fate,” said Brett.
“Nay. E’en though I can see why they would think it a good idea to go to France, I dinnae like that they all rode away leaving this place mostly unguarded, but near two years in prison is more than they should have had to suffer for that idiocy,” said Brian.
“If they are out there, we will find them,” said Harcourt, and Callum nodded.
“I pray ye do. I will leave the hunt in your hands, then. If ye find anything, I wish to ken it, for ye will probably need many of us to free them,” said Brett.
“I will start in the morning,” said Harcourt, and left to seek out his bed.
“There is something else to consider,” said Brian.
“And what would that be?” asked Brett.
“Any mon who would take away and imprison his own allies for near to two years probably isnae quite sane.”
“I have begun to fear that myself, old friend.”