There was a surprised choking sound on the other side of the door. She guessed that he was standing directly in front of it to make his words sound louder.
“What?” the man managed.
“I am coming out,” the Abbess snapped. “Pull yer men and yer battering ram back from the door. I am coming out.”
There was a moment of silence, then the sound of shuffling. The Abbess nodded at one of the nuns, who pulled back a hidden peephole set into the door.
“They’ve done it, Mother,” she whispered.
“Keep an eye on them,” she instructed.
There was a small door set in the side of the larger one, barely as tall as a person and very narrow. She had no intention of unlocking the main door itself, so she quickly set about unbarring that small door. Pausing, the Abbess glanced over her shoulder.
Sister Rosemary stood there, her face white with grief.
“Let me come with ye,” Sister Rosemary whispered.
The Abbess laid her hands on her shoulder.
“I would not have ye share my fate for all the wealth of the world,” she whispered. “Stay here. Act as Abbess in my stead. And when I am gone, for heaven’s sake, bar the door.”
She didn’t wait for Sister Rosemary to answer. Instead, the Abbess ducked through the low doorway before she could give herself a chance to think twice and stepped out into the weak sunlight.
The door slammed shut behind her, and she heard thethunk-clickof bolts sliding back into place. The Abbess blinked, her eyes trying to adjust to the bright sunlight. A collection of men in Dickson tartan stared at her, open-mouthed.
One man took a tentative step forward.
“Ye came out,” he mumbled, and at once she recognized the voice of the man who’d been shouting. “Ye really came out.”
She spread out her hands. “Come on, lads. Ye spent all this time bellowing for me to come out, and yet, you don’t know what to do now that I’m here?”
The man flushed and gestured to the soldiers. A pair of them came forward, tentatively taking her elbows, and hustled her forward.
“Laird Dickson wishes to see ye,” the man explained, jerking his chin towards a small hillock about a hundred feet away. “He wants to speak with ye.”
The Abbess nodded. “As I expected.”
The soldiers began to escort her away, and she heard the man speak to his soldiers.
“Take out the battering ram again.”
Panic welled up inside her, and the Abbess struggled in the soldier’s grip.
“Wait!” she cried. “What are ye doing? Ye promised that if I came out, ye would let the other nuns live.”
The man’s face was crimson, and he avoided her eye.
“Forgive me, Abbess,” he whispered. “Those were my orders.”
The Abbess was dragged unceremoniously away, kicking and screaming.
She managedto compose herself before she was brought before Laird Dickson.
The man had set up a small table on top of the hill, with a chair set beside it, draped with fur. Trees clustered around the little clearing, and there were early summer flowers nodding in the long grass. It almost looked like a picnic spot, except for the soldiers ringing the clearing, backs turned to the forest, keepingtheir eyes on Laird Dickson and the Abbess. The man himself sat sprawled in the chair, staring out as if looking at the view. He didn’t glance up as she approached.
The Abbess was deposited in front of him, and the soldiers released her and stepped back.
At last, Laird Dickson tore his eyes away from the scene and glanced up at her. He lifted his eyebrows.
