at all,” Iana answered, “though I fear the chamber pot is done for.”
“Makes a fine weapon, sir,” Everand said proudly, “and our lady wielded it well.”
Iana nodded, accepting the compliment.
Henri turned, incredulous. “You struck him and he leapt out the window?”
Iana and Everand looked at each other before facing him again.
She was the one who explained. “When we would not let him in, he broke the door down. I hit him, then Everand crowned him with a stool and sent a blade straight to his black heart. Together we tossed him out.”
Henri’s awestruck gaze caught upon the unfamiliar short sword that lay abandoned in the corner of the room. A chill ran up his spine and he shook his head, still disbelieving. “You mean he…? Why, he might have…”
“Aye,” she agreed. “But no matter. ’Tis done and he is gone now. I was thinking we should be away, as well. And soon,” she added.
“Yes, that definitely would be wise,” Henri muttered, his mind still fixed upon the intruder and what could have happened during his brief absence. He would not leave them alone again for any reason.
Iana was right. They needed to quit the inn and travel on immediately. Injured as he was and not at full strength, he was hardly geared for defending them against anything other than the most inept of miscreants. Certainly not the vagaries of Scottish law. There were certain to be repercussions.
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