“Yah!”
He set his heels to the horse’s flanks and sent him galloping through the entrance. Behind, he heard Magnus and Emeric shouting his name, but he didn’t slow. Urgency pounded through him almost as hot as his anger. Hewouldcomplete his mission. Hewouldkeep his oath. Hewouldget that bastard to Edinburgh to face trial if it was the last thing he did.
Lord Eberwyn’s manor house sat at the junction of three roads, one that ran back north the way they’d come from Dun Saith, one east towards Edinburgh, and one to the west that cut along the upland escarpment on which Eberwyn’s lands lay. Oskar turned his horse along the western road, which was little more than a dirt track used by villagers coming and going from Abbotsfield.
The day was cold and blustery, with a piercing wind that sent Oskar’s auburn hair blowing around his head. He squinted into the wind and slowed his horse to a canter. Despite his urgency, it wouldn’t do to exhaust the beast or risk throwing a shoe on the rutted, half-frozen path.
He had no idea how far Abbotsfield was, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, looking for anyone that might be the healer Eberwyn had sent for. He saw nobody. A hawk rode the thermals in lazy spirals high above, a few pheasants called their barking call from the heather nearby, but other than that, it was just him and his mount.
So he was mightily surprised when someone suddenly stepped into his path. He had only an instant to register the squat, cloak-wrapped figure, standing in the middle of the track, and managed to yank the horse roughly aside. The horsewhinnied and mud flew up from beneath his hooves as Oskar reined in, twisting in his saddle to look back.
The figure still stood in the center of the road, watching him calmly, as though nothing had happened.
“What, by all that’s holy?”
Throwing the reins over the horse’s head, he slid from the saddle and advanced on the figure. “What did ye think ye were doing?” he bellowed. “I could have killed ye!”
The figure pulled back the hood of the cloak to reveal a short, rotund old woman looking up at him with an expression of mild surprise on her wrinkled face. “Oh, I dinna think so, lad. Ye are a far better horseman than that.”
“Is that so?” he retorted. “And how would ye know what kind of horseman I am? Ye should look where ye are going, woman!”
His outburst had no effect on her. She smiled up at him with a kindly expression, like a grandmother patiently waiting out a grandchild’s tantrum. Oskar shifted his weight, then ran a hand through his hair.
“Er...are ye all right? I didnae hurt ye, did I?”
“Nay, my boy. I’m just fine.”
“Oh.” He looked around. There was nobody else in sight. “Are ye the healer from Abbotsfield?”
She shook her head. “Nay, lad. I’m not the one ye are looking for.”
“Then I’ll be on my way.”
He took a step, but the old woman grabbed his arm. Her skin was warm and as dry as old parchment. “Are ye in such a hurry?”
He glanced at her hand around his forearm and then up at her face. He couldn’t put an age to her. Old, that was all he could tell. Old beyond years. Her face was a map of creases and wrinkles, a bun of iron-gray at the back of her head, and her eyes were like polished black gemstones staring out at him.
“Aye, I’m in a hurry,” he said, pulling his arm free. “So If ye dinna mind—”
“My, my, what causes such impatience?” she asked, a puzzled frown marring her wrinkled features.
“What business is that of yers? Kindly step aside. I’m late already.”
He turned to walk away, but she was suddenly right in front of him. He hadn’t seen her move. He didn’t recognize the colors of the plaid she wore swathed around her broad frame so he couldn’t identify her clan. Not that it mattered, of course. This close to Edinburgh, the old clan lines began to dissolve anyway and it had become a hotchpotch of peoples from all over Alba and beyond.
He schooled his features to the best expression of patience he could muster. “Look, is there something I can help ye with? Are ye from Abbotsfield? I’m heading that way if ye would like a ride.”
Her face broke into a broad, child-like smile, revealing a row of surprisingly perfect teeth. “That’s mighty kind of ye, my boy, but I’m not going that way. In fact, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right where I need to be.”
Right where she needed to be? Out here on her own? Was the old woman brain-addled?
He sighed. “Why dinna ye come along with me?” he said, trying for a gentle tone of voice that he was not entirely sure he succeeded with. “I’ll get ye up on my horse and we’ll be on our way.”
She cocked her head at him. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because ye canna stay out here alone!”
“Why not?”
