Beitris patted the table and shook her head, her eyes flaring wide with alarm. “Nay. Mama fears if anything ill happens to Euban or Granger either one, especially here at the castle, the entire clan will turn on her. Many support Euban taking Da’s place as laird since Mama is neither a full-blooded Scot nor landed in her own rights. She brought nothing when she came to Clan Maxwell. Cost them money, in fact, and they resent her for it. They think her a liability that will only cost them more. Especially if she ever remarries.”
“Is this clan so feckin’ ungrateful?” Valan rose, unable to sit any longer. “Yer mother dedicated her life to those people.” He jabbed the air, pointing at the lass. “And ye both risk yer lives to save their village and them.”
“’Tis not the entire clan who treats Mama as an outsider.” Beitris shifted with a woeful sigh. “’Tis only the more vocal ones. Those able to stir the others and muddle their minds. Then the bad ones make the good ones wonder if they’re wrong in trusting Mama.” She pulled a sour face and lowered her voice. “Ye ken how it is. Always those ready to make trouble and bring out the worst in people. Especially after several lost their homes to the English torches.”
“We will protect yer mother,” William said, rising to stand beside Valan. “Aye, Constable?”
Valan pointed at Beitris. “Guard this one with yer life,” he ordered, then thumped William on the chest. “But dinna teach her any sword and spear tactics, ye ken?”
“Aye, m’lord.” William appeared entirely too pleased with this latest assignment, but Valan would clarify his order at a later time.
“When is yer dung-heap of an uncle due to arrive?” he asked Beitris just as Dullis and a pair of maids entered with trays of food.
“Where be Lady Elspet?” Dullis sent a scowling glance around the room as she slid her tray onto the table.
“Gone to walk the battlements,” Beitris said. She snatched up a double handful of bannocks and hurried to the door leading to the courtyard. “I shall take her these. Ye ken how she gets after every burning attempt on the village. Worries about letting down her guard.”
“Why do ye no’ take the tower stair?” Dullis jerked a stubby finger at the doorway at the back of the room.
“Looks to be a braw day,” Beitris said. “I’ll take the long way ’round and get a good stretch of my legs.” She shot out the door, pausing only long enough to yank it shut behind her.
Valan gave William a subtle nod that sent him chasing after her.
“Ye’re going to stand there and let him run after her like that?” Puffed with haughtiness, Dullis planted her knobby hands on her bony hips. “Do all yer warriors ignore yer commands?”
He would tolerate no more insolence from this woman. Especially since her loyalties reportedly lay with Euban. “Did yer mistress not command ye to be respectful?” He glowered at her, taking a step forward to add to the intended intimidation.
Dullis’s eyes narrowed, and much to his surprise, she didn’t appear fazed. “Aye, m’lord, but—”
He cut her off with an upward slice of his hand that nearly brushed her nose. “Silence!” The bellowed order echoed off the walls, adding to the effect he intended. “Lady Elspet ordered yer behavior changed. Either cede to yer mistress’s wishes or another shall take yer place.”
“She would never!”
Valan assumed a smug demeanor and allowed a moment of silence to strengthen his bluff. “Tell me, Dullis, did ye believe yer mistress would ever take a lover?”
The crone’s mouth tightened. Her seething glower dropped as she shuffled back a step, displaying more humility and meekness than he had seen in her since his arrival. She nervously ran the tip of her tongue across her thin lips. “Forgive me, m’lord. The dangers to my mistress make me forget my place.” After an awkward curtsy, she glanced back at the two maids standing behind her still holding their trays. “We have much food here, m’lord. Do ye wish to break yer fast here, or shall we take all of it back to the kitchens while ye join Lady Elspet on the battlements?”
The fact that the maid read his intentions so easily disturbed him. Made him decide not to underestimate her. The wily old woman might be more dangerous than she seemed. Perhaps a spy. Especially after what Beitris said about the woman’s allegiance to Euban Maxwell. He selected a bannock, bit off a chunk, and stared at her as he chewed.
Dullis lifted her chin and waited. While somewhat meeker, her stubbornness and grit remained.
“Take the rest of the food to my knaves. They will see that it doesna go to waste.” Although, knowing Marcas’s contempt for anyone’s cooking other than his own, the loyal servant would probably toss it to the chickens scratching around the courtyard.
“I shall see to it, m’lord.” With a downward jerk of her chin, Dullis picked up her tray and glared at the other two maids to follow.
Valan waited until they left, then headed for the exit Elspet had used for her hasty departure. He pulled the door open and found himself in the northwest tower of the gatehouse, staring up at a spiral staircase of stone. With every step up the narrow, winding stairs, he became more determined to fend off Elspet’s enemies.
When he emerged from the shadowy tower, he paused and allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the rising sun. The view from the top of the imposing gatehouse was spectacular. All of Scotland seemed to spread out before him, or at least a good part of it. Verdant rolling hills. Clusters of trees here and there until they merged into a large wood surrounding what was left of the village. It was then he noticed the blackened remains of several buildings closest to the tree line. “Feckin’ bastards.”
“Over there is where we worked all our timber.” Elspet appeared at his side, pointing at the charred remains farthest to the west. With a sweep of her hand, she pointed at the center of the ruins. “Then the dyeing and carding sheds were there. All filled with wool yet to be dyed and worked. Three dwellings farthest to the east and a small stable behind them.” Seething rage flashed in her eyes and echoed in her voice. “They stole much, but at least they paid with a half dozen of their men.” Jaw tensing, she shook her head. “It shouldha been much more.” Her black hair whipped in the wind, streaming out like the wings of a dark angel.
Valan brushed it out of her eyes. “I will make the English pay for all they have cost ye…and more.” Unable to resist, he moved behind her, combed her tresses back, and plaited them into a long, silky braid. With a hard yank, he broke free a leather tie from his chest plate and secured his handiwork.
Elspet examined the braid, then gifted him with a smile. “As good as any handmaid.”
Her gaze rose to his long hair, most of it loose, other than the strands closest to his face. Those, he always pulled back and knotted at the back of his head to keep his view clear for battle.
“Yet, ye dinna plait yer own hair,” she observed, then tossed the braid behind her shoulder. “Are allGallóglaighso talented?”
