days ago.”
“How many?”
“Perhaps five . . . or six.”
“Ah. So she cannot have gotten far.”
“She has been gone many days. It would be folly to pursue her.”
“But she has gone on foot.”
The priest frowned, and Eric knew he was right.
“How—”
“She departed through a secret tunnel, certainly, or my men would have known. So, at the least, she started out by foot. I think I will be able to find her.”
“She was not responsible for the death here. She saved your life.”
“I survived. She is not capable of saving lives. My wife is dead.”
“She is not a magician.”
“She has the reputation of a healer.”
“But no man can work miracles.”
“I repeat, my wife is dead. And my babe. A child as innocent of evil as any soul could be.”
“But what matters here—”
“Nothing else matters. My wife and child are dead.”
“But you have survived,” MacKinley said, leaning forward in sudden passion. “God willed that you should survive, and so you should be on your knees in gratitude, and let go the innocent woman who aided you in that survival. Thank God, and embrace life, and the world will again begin to hold substance, there will be a reason to live, you will find a reason to live—”
“Father, you needn’t speak so passionately, as if I were a lost member of your flock,” Eric said dryly. “There is a reason to live. Scotland.”
“A man must have more to live for, sir, than bloodshed and battle. You have lost much, but gained much. You hold this castle, and your man, Bruce, is king. Therefore—”
“Oh, he is king. But he does not hold Scotland. Where was the lady going?”
MacKinley frowned “I haven’t lied to you in any way. I have told you; Lady Igrainia is on her way to her brother, the young earl.”
“But there was no party to escort her; I have been abed and ill a long time, but I am aware of what goes on here. My small party of men hold the workings of the castle. Some of the poor men drawn to arms in the name of Edward of England have readily changed sides. They might as readily change back, but . . . not while we hold the power. Few of the workers and craftsmen who have survived care much who holds the castle, as long as they may live and work and continue surviving. Anyone loyal to the king of England languishes in the dungeons below where the rot of death must still permeate the stone. There was no way for you to provide an escort for the lady of the castle. Therefore, she is traveling alone, or with a maid or manservant, no more. And even on the border of England, she wouldn’t dare let her true identity be known. She would be far too rich a prey for even a loyal English outlaw to overlook. So . . . She has donned some poor woolen cloak, and gone out on the road as a poor pilgrim. Am I correct?”
MacKinley didn’t need to answer. His cheeks were flushed.
“You must leave her be. She is not guilty of any harm.”
Eric felt a rising fury within him. “She was the wife of Afton of Langley. Langley played host to the king’s men sent to murder Scottish nationalists and imprison, humiliate and torment their wives. She is as guilty as original sin, Father.”
“You’re wrong. You must not harm her . . . you must not . . .”
Eric cast the priest a look of total disdain. “I have no interest in your lady witch, priest. But she has a value to the cause of Scotland. You know what has befallen certain noblewomen of our country, Father. Word has gone out faster than the wind.”
Garth came into the room carrying a large tray. A fresh haunch of venison lay on the tray with a loaf of bread and a ewer of ale.
Eric watched Garth as he delivered the food. “Garth of Langley, you’ve long been in service here. Sit and join us.”
“There is no poison in the meat,” Father MacKinley said. “We did not save your life to end it with poison.”
“Nevertheless, you will both oblige me by dining first.”
Father MacKinley kept his eyes full upon Eric’s as he knifed a large section from the meat and chewed it down, then broke off bread, and did the same. Eric brought his gaze upon Garth, who also took meat and bread.
“The ale,” Eric suggested.
Both men drank.
Eric then set upon the meal, suddenly ravenous, yet aware that he had to take care with meat so rich when he had been ill so long. It was hard not to wolf down every last bite. When he had finished, he realized both men were still watching him in silence.
He sat back. “You are both free to leave the castle, if you wish.”
Neither man replied.
“Did you hear me? You are free to travel south, to safer ground.”
“Where would I go?” Garth asked him. “I have worked here all my life.”
“These people are my . . . they are my flock,” MacKinley said. “And I would keep the peace between them, and you.”
“You must keep the peace between them—and Peter MacDonald.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Aye.”
“Joining the Bruce to fight on?” The priest said hopefully.
“You know that I am not. Aye, I’m leaving, but I won’t be joining the Bruce—not just yet. I was sent out to solicit men for his battles, and thus was at sea where we found the man who inflicted us all with this rampaging disease. I meant to return to the king with more men at arms. And we will soon have help from many Irish chieftains. But for ourselves. . . now . . . we’ve lost so many. But, still, I believe that I will bring Robert Bruce a political and powerful prize, nevertheless.”
“You don’t mean . . .”
“The Lady of Langley? The very wealthy daughter of the late Earl of Wheaten? Aye, she is the exact prize I do mean.”
“You will give her over—to Robert Bruce?”
“Indeed.”
“But—but—she is long gone. You will never find her.”
Eric rose and came to the priest, staring down at him. “Oh, but I will. You have told me that I will find something to live for. I have found it, Father. I am living for two things, and two things only. Scotland—and revenge. Trust me, Father, I never lie. I intend to find her. And I will.”
“But
