Tate shook his head, resisting the urge to throw another rock at the dog sniffing at his leg. “I never saw them. They were clever to blend with the mist.”
“The sheep,” Toby said quietly.
“What about them?”
“I do not hear them.”
Tate cocked an ear, but there was nothing in the air. It was quiet but for an occasional bird. “We will not go look for them now,” he said. “Better to wait for the fog to lift.”
Toby didn’t argue. She followed Tate, the squire and the men at arms back to the road where the horses were tethered. Shortly, the knights returned and reported to Tate. The two other shepherds had been found, murdered. Deeply disturbed, Toby mounted her horse with Tate’s assistance. Tate, however, remained on the ground.
“John, I will leave it to you and Oscar to escort the lady back to Forestburn,” Tate indicated one of the men at arms, heavily armed with his crossbow. “Remain there. I shall come for you when I can.”
Toby was surprised, concerned. “You are not returning with us?”
“Nay, mistress.”
“Where do you go, then?”
Tate swung his big body aboard his charger. “To find whoever launched the attack.” He looked over his shoulder to his knights. “Stephen, ride to Harbottle Castle and collect thirty men to form a search party. Kenneth, Morley, you ride with me. We shall see if we can find a trail while it is still fresh.”
“My lord, if I may,” Toby interrupted. “The raiders are most likely border Scots. They shall disappear into the land as quickly as they sprang from it. You will not find them.”
His expression was dark. “Mistress,” he said quietly. “Stephen and Kenneth examined the arrows that killed your men. They are not the arrows of border Scots.”
A bolt of fear ran through her. “Then to whom do they belong?”
Tate’s response was to turn her horse around and bark orders to John and the man-at-arms to move with all due haste. Toby’slast sight of Tate was as he and his gray charger disappeared into the fog like phantoms.
*
It had beena long night. Morning dawned and still they had not returned. Toby sat by the hearth in the great hall well after the meal was finished, wondering if something terrible had befallen Tate and his men. She wasn’t feeling particularly well this morning perhaps as a result of the chill she had received yesterday; she was warm to the touch and generally exhausted. She could not even summon the strength to answer the cries from her mother. Not guilt or God could have motivated her to respond this day. She had sent Ailsa to see to the woman’s needs instead, instructing her to stay out of arm’s length.
The squire and the man-at-arms had remained in thegarçonnairesince their return yesterday. She had seen them only twice, for the evening and morning meal. At this late stage of the morning, it was quiet with Ailsa taking her usual nap and her mother at least silent for the moment. Her father had gone into the village to drink and discuss town affairs with the aldermen and Toby was weary of sitting about, wondering what had become of the lord of Harbottle. There were accounting matters waiting for her in her father’s solar that she had put off long enough.
Rising from the chair, she accidentally brushed her hand against the arm of the chair and winced painfully; the scratches her mother had given her were becoming angry red wounds. Examining it more closely, she saw that the entire area was swollen and painful. She knew she should have tended them yesterday when they were fresh but she had other things on her mind.
Arrowroot flowers grew wild in an open area near the village. Toby sent a servant out to gather some so that she could tend her wounds with them. By the time the servant returned with the flowers, Toby’s entire body was hot, tired and throbbing. Sitting at her father’s desk doing an accounting of their winter fruit supply was difficult; her eyes were hot and it was difficult to keep them open. In fact, she wanted very much to sleep. She gratefully set the quill down to turn her attention to the healing powers of the tender arrowroot. She promised herself a rest after tending the cuts.
The flowers were mashed into a paste against softened linen, allowing the juices from the petals to seep into the material. Toby packed some of the mashed petals against the red gashes and then wrapped the remaining petals and linen tightly around them. She was securing the edges of the linen so that the bandage would stay firm when she heard horses at a distance. Her weariness fled for the moment as she bolted to the window.
Tate had returned and he had a horde of men with him. Toby tried to play ignorant to the fact that her heart had leapt at the sounds of him returning. She almost ran for the door but stopped herself. In fact, it was best if she went back to her accounting and pretended she hadn’t heard the horses at all. Moving for the desk, she sat calmly and resumed her bookkeeping with the exception of not truly looking at the count before her. She looked at the parchment but saw nothing. Her mind, vision and hearing were attuned to the entry door in the hall.
Her wait was a long, excruciating one. It took forever for the door to finally creak open. She had almost broken her quill with nervous fingers. She struggled to concentrate on her count as bootfalls crossed the hall, paused, and then moved for the solar. Only then did she very casually look up.
Tate was dressed to the hilt in armor and weapons. He looked every inch the feared warrior of the Dragonblade epithet. But he also looked weary, as if he had been up all night. His storm cloud eyes fixed on her.
“Mistress,” he sounded weary, too.
She rose from her chair, feeling strangely light-headed. “My lord,” she returned his salutation. “I hope all went well.”
“It did not, but that should not concern you. Suffice it to say that your father is released from his pledge of the herd for young Edward’s cause.”
“I do not understand. Is something wrong?”
“I am returning to London and do not have time to wait for the collection.”
His manner was clipped. Toby took a step in his direction, concerned that something was gravely amiss. “My lord, if we have done something to offend you, then I….”
