After Ardroch called a halt to the training and they put up their swords, Deathan crossed the stable floor, where they worked, to the woman’s side.
“Mistress.”
“Mam,” said Tighe, who came at Deathan’s back, “this is Master Deathan, who’s training me.”
Master.He was no one’s master here.
The woman directed a look at Deathan, up and down. “Are ye a mercenary, then?”
“Mistress, I ha’ been many things.” Did she come as a spy for MacNabh?
“Why should ye bother to train my son?”
“Because he asked me, and he has talent. He wishes to be more than he is.”
“Ye think I do not know that?” Her gaze seared him. “He should ha’ a claim here, by right. Not some babe yet to be born.”
Deathan’s heart jerked in his chest violently. Did this woman who worked in the house know something he did not? Was Darlei, his Darlei, carrying MacNabh’s child?
The very idea made him begin to sweat. It did not matter, though. Any child she bore would be part of her, and so dear to him.
“Tighe will be a fine warrior some day,” he told the woman, “and worthy o’ any man’s notice.”
Tighe, still standing beside him, seemed to expand with pride.
“Aye so,” said the lad’s mother. “But life can be cruel.”
“Aye, mistress, so it can.”
“I would no’ like to see my son disappointed.”
She walked away, and Tighe followed with a regretful look or Deathan.
The next morning they were at work on the wall when an unnatural silence fell upon the yard. Deathan, moving stones from a cart, turned to find none other than MacNabh at his elbow.
It was the first close look he’d had of the man. Surely well past two score in years, he stood nearly of a height with Deathan and had black hair heavily streaked with gray. Pale-blue eyes glowered at Deathan from beneath heavy brows. The man did not look pleased.
“Who,” he demanded into the sudden silence, “by the devil’s beak, are ye?”
Deathan hesitated, not wanting to give his true name to this man whom he would likely kill.
“Just a worker, Chief MacNabh,” he said as respectfully as he could manage for the surge of loathing that filled him. This man had touched Darlei, perhaps forced her.
Deathan’s skin crawled.
Ardroch stepped forward. “This man stopped by, Chief MacNabh, looking for work when we needed the help. I took him on—for a few days.”
MacNabh switched the icy stare to Ardroch. “Wi’out asking me.”
“Well, chief, I thought as we were so hard pressed wi’ the king’s visit—”
“I mak’ the decisions here. He’ll ha’ to go.”
“But chief—”
“I do no’ ken him. He could be anyone.”
“He is a braw worker, chief, and a dab hand wi’ the horses. He’s workin’ for his keep.”
