She stood before them, struggling to control her nerves. The prisoners were not bound and could come at her in a moment, but how would that serve them with an armed guard waiting at the door? Besides, the two men slumped together on the earth floor did not have a look of defiance about them. Their eyes, which previously had sparkled with life, had grown dull and listless.
She cleared her throat. “I asked for you to be moved here for the better light. I am only sorry it did not happen sooner.”
Not so much as an expression crossed over their faces.
“You are being offered food and water, are you not?” she asked with sudden concern.
One of them, she thought it must be Andrew for the tinge of red in his dirty hair, nodded once.
“You can speak,” she said abruptly. “I know that you kept silent before for fear of giving away your accent. But all of that is in the open now.”
Andrew looked for a moment as if he might. Arlo only gazed at the floor.
Frida twisted her hands behind her back. It had been a mistake to come here. She had told herself that she wanted to make sure the prisoners were being afforded their basic dignities, but in reality, she had been driven by a more selfish goal.
Andrew and Arlo are my last link with Callum.
As if thinking his name had triggered a response. Andrew finally spoke up, his voice reedy with lack of use.
“Where is Callum?”
Her eyes opened wide. “You do not know?” At their blank looks, she cursed her stupidity. How could they know? It was unlikely the guards would share any gossip as they brought in their rations. She bit down on her lip, considering the best response. In the end, she settled for the truth. “He has escaped.”
This got a reaction. Andrew lifted his head and smiled. Arlo looked as if he might weep with relief.
“You thought him dead?” she guessed.
“We feared the worst, aye,” Andrew agreed. She heard immediately the Scottish brogue that the big warrior had masked all this time.
“I do not know what has happened to him since, but he left Ember Hall under his own volition.” She turned her gaze to Arlo. “Is your shoulder healed?”
When he nodded mutely, she sighed in frustration.
“Does it pain you still?”
This time there was a pause, followed by a slight shake of his head.
Frida looked to Andrew for support, but the highlander only shrugged. “He talks to me still. You needn’t fear the lad has lost his wits.”
Frida thought that she should walk over to Arlo and inspect his wound for herself, but something held her back. Something that she was not proud of. Distaste of getting too close to the men who had not washed for many a day was part of it. Fear of provoking a physical attack was another.
She fought an urge to apologise for the rough treatment they had received from the guards and for taking away their liberty. Even now, she was still refusing them the right of fresh air and exercise.
But these men had come to Ember Hall intending her family harm. They had lived and worked here under false pretences. She could not forget that.
She gave her head a little shake. “I am sorry this has happened,” she said. It was true enough. She wished it had all turned out differently.
Arlo spoke up, making her start with surprise. “Thank ye for bringing the news that Callum still lives.”
She nodded. The emotion in the lad’s blue eyes made her say more. “You were close to him? You have known him long?” Again, she cursed her foolishness. Surely they would sense her misguided need to hear more of her lover’s past and would choose to ignore her.
But Arlo held her gaze without flinching. His lips trembled with sincerity. “He is like kin. The only kin I have left to me.”
Andrew’s voice was harsh. “Both Arlo’s parents were cut down at the siege of Kielder Castle.”
She could not help an instinctive gasp of horror, picturing the scene and Arlo’s subsequent heartbreak. “I am sorry for your loss,” she muttered, her words ineffective against a past containing so much bloodshed.
Andrew inclined his head. “War is war,” he said, cryptically.
