Page 25 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“But she’s wearing a pin,” Alick pointed out, leaning his upper body forward to peer around Rory at the pin fastening Elysande’s arisaidh at her neck.

“’Tis the alewife’s,” Rory explained. “Just borrowed until we can find her another to replace it.”

“Ah,” Alick said with understanding.

“Conn, do ye ken o’ a shop where we could find what we need?” Rory asked.

“Aye.”

“Lead the way, then,” Rory suggested, and the man moved out in front of them to do just that.

They walked the next few minutes in silence until Rory asked her, “What do ye think o’ the city, lass?”

Elysande glanced to him and then around at the busy street, managing not to grimace. It had been beautiful this morning when they’d first left the alehouse. The air had been cold and crisp, the street almost empty and the ground covered with fresh, clean snow. But by the time they’d returned to the alehouse they’d had to pass through a very different scene. The city had been teaming by then, the air had reeked of offal and the street had been a mixture of slush, mud and the contents of the chamber pots that had been emptied out the windows of the upper floors of the buildings.

In truth, she found the city disgusting and felt sorry for the people who had to live here. She was also grateful she had grown up in a castle far away from the cesspits of such a city. But instead of saying that, she asked, “Are all cities like this?”

“Some are bigger, some smaller, but aye. Otherwise, they are all much the same,” he answered, glancing around.

Elysande wrinkled her nose at this news, but simply said, “Well, ’tis nice to have the shops available, and not have to wait for the various merchants to roll up to the castle.”

“Aye. ’Tis an advantage,” Rory said, and then grimaced. “But the smell.”

“Aye,” Elysande gasped, and tugged the hood of her tartan over her nose as they passed through a particularly putrid area. “And it cannot be healthful to be walking about with this kind of filth in the streets. ’Tis no wonder the Black Plague hit the cities so much harder than everywhere else.”

“Aye,” Rory said grimly, and then pressed her closer to the building they were passing, and rushed her along as they heard a shutter open overhead. They were just quick enough that none of their party got splashed by the contents of the chamber pot that someone tossed out.

“Where do the children play?” Elysande asked with sudden concern.

“What?” Rory asked with surprise.

“At Kynardersley the servants’ children played in the bailey when they were not helping their parents. But where do they play here? I have not noticed any children about.”

Rory glanced around now as if in search of them. “Mayhap the cold keeps them inside today. But I have no idea where they would play on nice days.”

They were both silent as they followed Conn down another street. Elysande glanced around to see the men beside and behind them. Alick was on the other side of Rory, while Inan was beside her and the rest of the men were behind them, but all of them were alert, their eyes scanning the people in the streets, on the lookout for trouble. Elysande supposed Rory had told them to keep an eye out for de Buci’s men.

Not wanting to think about that just now, Elysande sought her mind for something to say and asked, “What was it like growing up with so many brothers and a sister?”

Rory looked surprised by that question, and then he smiled crookedly and shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it. I guess ’twas noisy, busy and sometimes a pain in the arse.”

“Why a pain in the arse?” she asked with curiosity. She’d always wanted brothers and sisters. It had never occurred to her that it would be anything but wonderful.

“Because o’ the pranks we pulled on each other,” Rory said with a fond smile of remembrance. “After my mother died, I always had me nose in any book on healing I could find, and they were fond o’ teasing me o’er it, or snatching them away and making me give chase.” He shrugged wryly. “Although, to be fair, they ne’er picked on me as much as each other.”

“What kind of pranks did they play on each other?” Elysande asked with interest.

“Oh, well, shaving each other’s heads if they were fool enough to drink too deep and lose consciousness. Putting crushed rose hip in their beds to make them itchy.”

“Putting pigs in their beds while they slept, or carting their beds out to the bullpen while they were still sleeping in them,” Alick put in, joining the conversation. Leaning around Rory he met her gaze and explained, “Those last two were when we were older and the brothers we did it to were in their cups.”

“Aye,” Rory agreed. “But I think the worst was when we were younger. One o’ our brothers carefully cut out the stem o’ a pear, hollowed it out and filled it with beetles, then put the stem back and waited to see what would happen.”

“What happened?” Elysande asked, her eyes wide.

“Saidh started to eat the pear, got a mouth full o’ beetles and started choking.” He grimaced at the memory. “That was probably the nastiest. We only figured out how ’twas done because the stem popped out when she dropped it.” He shook his head at the memory. “We ne’er found out who the culprit was, and no one confessed.”

“Aye,” Alick said grimly. “No doubt whoe’er did it was afraid o’ the retribution should they be discovered. We were all upset by it. Anyone o’ us could have picked that pear, and Saidh near choked to death. She was only ten.”

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