Page 51 of Rebellion's Fire

“When does he leave your mother?” Sigurd asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“And if he does happen to come to Tirebeck, you want us to watch out for your ally?” Sigurd allowed a hint of a question into his voice.

Adam nodded. “Though it won’t be necessary. I’ll escort him into the Glen myself.” He dug in his heels and rode off.

*

Riding hard and,some might have considered, dangerously, by the shortest route, Adam made it home by nightfall. He found the hall quiet. Fergus of Galloway and his followers had left unexpectedly early, while he and Donald had both been too busy on other matters to escort him.

“South to Inverness,” Adam said intently. Although he didn’t yet pause to sit, he was careful not to make it a question.

From the men’s tables, Findlaech said, “Aye. Just the way they should. Of course, he knows the way.”

Adam was barely aware of the laughter as he sank down into his own place and grabbed blindly at the food in front of him, uncaring what it was, just that he was hungry. Leaning forward, he checked again who sat at the table.

“I sent an escort with him,” his mother said.

“We can do things properly without you, Adam,” Donald added irritably.

Adam nodded. And his mother did things properly without either of them. He was worrying about nothing. Only… “Why did he leave early?”

His mother laid down her knife. “He got a message from home this morning. Something in Galloway required his urgent attention. So, he made his thanks and farewells, accepted the safe conducts, and departed. You and Donald will go to Galloway in the autumn and confirm the alliance, perhaps with a joint attack after Gormflaith’s marriage.”

The juxtaposition of the acts amused Adam, but only briefly.

Gormflaith, who, being still set on an Orcadian marriage, was sulking, said suddenly, “The messenger can’t have come from Galloway. I was on the hill, and I saw him ride in from the coast road.”

Adam stopped chewing. Every nerve in his body tingled with alarm he barely understood.

“Why does that matter?” his mother asked sharply. “We all have messengers who report from all directions. Fergus will not betray us. He genuinely wants this alliance, at least as much as we do. I believe him to be a man of honor.”

Adam nodded and stood, stuffing food into his pockets without discrimination. “He’ll help usandhimself.”

Donald, watching his actions with a mixture of amusement and irritation, said, “And that is a problem for us, why?”

“Because he knows who Cairistiona is.”

*

Fergus of Gallowaywas enjoying himself hugely. The freedom of youth seemed to have recaptured his spirit as he’d ridden away from his men as soon as they were free of the MacHeth escort, and doubled back alone, traveling instead toward the east coast.

Everything was wonderful with his world right now. He had made an exciting alliance, soon to be cemented through marriage. And just in case they were inclined to change their minds before the autumn, he was about to present them with an extra gift, by way of proof of his value.

He looked forward to their gratitude and to seeing them again. Over the years, the Lady of Ross had grown from a lovely, impetuous girl into a mature woman of overwhelming presence and beauty. She dazzled him. As he was sure her daughter would dazzle his son. Gormflaith, like her brothers, seemed to be a child of nature.

As for Malcolm MacHeth’s sons, they were rather more than the wild, insolent raiders he’d more than half expected. Each in his own way had his father’s thoughtfulness and intelligence, though they used it very differently. Adam was the biggest surprise. The meticulously planning, if mischievous, outlaw he’d chased from Kingowan had seemed at first, close to, peculiarly unfocused and unworldly. But he’d followed every conversation, as his few interjections had shown. And what he’d said, though sometimes strangely expressed, always had a good point.

Neither his brother nor his mother ever derided him with look or word. Neither had the servants nor the fighting men and those, Fergus had discovered over the years, were generally the best guide to the man beneath the surface he showed the world.

Oh yes, exciting allies, exciting times. And a legacy, please God, that would long outlive him and his turbulent sons…

In their own way, although untamed, the MacHeths were too honorable. He was more than happy to help them, and snatch a little prize for himself.

There were no guards around the illuminated hall enclosure at Tirebeck. There didn’t need to be, for the Normans had built one of their favorite castle towers, from which they could see over the whole of the surrounding countryside. Apart from the wooded area, from where Fergus watched in the gathering dusk. Even there, they would have observed the movement of several men. One alone was neither obvious nor threatening.

As he peered through the tree branches, a woman hurried across the yard toward the hall. She wore a cloak and walked with odd reluctance but definite grace. She paused at the hall door as if taking a deep breath. The Norman, it seemed, did not run a pleasant hall. The woman glanced up at the sky and the light from the torch above the door showed Fergus not just a comely face—at least over this distance—but one that seemed to be partially covered.

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