Page 50 of Highlander Redeemed
She needed to talk to Duncan.
Scotia waited for Jeanette to sit back on her heels. Her head hung down as if she were tired, or sad.
“Well?” Rowan asked.
“I cannot tell where the English are any better than I could this morn. If only I had traveled toward Oban once or twice I might be able to identify the land I can see around them.”
“Well, at least we know they are not in Glen Lairig yet,” Scotia said. “That means they must still be at least a day’s march from the castle, aye?”
Jeanette lifted her head and shifted off her knees to sit so she could see both Rowan on her right and Scotia on her left.
“I suppose it does, and that alone is useful,” she said.
“I might have something else of use,” Scotia said, trying to scoot more upright, but only succeeding in scratching her back on the tree’s rough bark. “I think the third symbol really is mine.”
DUNCAN ARRIVED BACKat the caves with the three MacKenzies and the blindfolded archer, who was injured but not badly enough to keep him from answering questions.
Nicholas came out of the surrounding trees without a sound. “The other one?” he asked.
“Dead,” Duncan replied.
Nicholas nodded at the three MacKenzies and pointed down the path to the Guardians’ bower. They took their leave, clearly meant to take up posts guarding the Guardians.
“What’s your name?” Nicholas asked the prisoner.
“Bryn of Beaumaris,” he answered without hesitation as Malcolm joined them from the same path the others had taken.
“An archer, aye? From Wales?” Nicholas asked.
“I am.”
“Why did you let yourself be caught?” Duncan asked. It had been exceedingly odd that as soon as the older soldier had fallen, Bryn had thrown down his bow and given himself up.
“I have no love for the English. I was taken from my home and my family and impressed into service in Edward’s army when I was ten and five. I was good with a bow. All of us who had any skill with the bow were taken by the king’s army.”
“Why did you not escape and return home if you have no love for the English?” Malcolm asked.
Bryn’s head jerked as he looked in Malcolm’s direction, though Duncan was certain the man could see nothing. “I have no home to go to. My father was a mason. We followed the castles and lived in the work camps. It has been at least ten years since I became an archer. I know not where my family might be now.”
The three men looked at each other. Duncan shrugged, not sure whether to believe the man or not. It would be useful if one of the Guardians could tell if someone spoke the truth.
That dragged his thoughts away from Bryn to Scotia. What had Nicholas done with her? He knew better than to speak of clan business in front of their prisoner, but he was worried about her, regardless of how angry he still was with her latest debacle. He was not pleased with himself for worrying. He should be done with her, but he could not stop his concern. The look in her eyes when she was exposing all her fears and mistakes, when she took responsibility for Myles’s death, and her mum’s, had been so sincere, so without guile or pretense. He had forced himself to keep away from her, though he had not been able to stand there and watch her blame herself for her mum’s murder.
It all made sense now, though, the changes in her, the choices she’d made.
“How far away are Lord Sherwood and his forces?” Malcolm asked.
Bryn sighed. “They are at least two days away unless he leaves the supplies and everyone but the soldiers to make their way separately. If he brings only the soldiers and they are all on foot, a day, perhaps a day and a half.”
Duncan looked to Malcolm, who was nodding his head slightly.
“How many men does he have?” Malcolm asked.
“He started with two score, but they have been harried almost every night since we arrived by other Scots. Perhaps a score and ten now? I am not sure as I’ve been scouting this area for several days.”
“Take him to the training area, Duncan,” Nicholas said. “Secure him there. Gag him. I will send someone to take over his watch. We have another situation to see to.”
“You do not mean to kill me now I’ve cooperated?” Bryn asked. “According to Lord Sherwood all Highlanders are murderous brigands, but then that’s what he says about the Welsh, too.”
