It was the tone of his voice that alerted her to the possibility that something was not right. “Tom is already asleep,” Rosamund noted. “I would know what it is you are keeping from me.”
“Tomorrow, Rosamund,” he responded.
“Now!”she said sharply. Her first visit to court had taught her the value of good connections. Her second visit had taught her how to wield her authority.
Edmund Bolton had never before heard his niece speak with such command. She has finally grown up, he thought to himself, and then he said, “The Scots have been raiding the flocks, I fear.”
“How is this possible?” she demanded to know. “Our steep hills have always protected us from raiders. What have you done to combat this thievery? Do you know who it is?”
“They have taken to coming in the night,” Edmund began, “and only when there is a border moon to light their way. They steal from the meadows closest to the hilltop. They have killed two of our shepherds and strangled their dogs to keep them from barking.”
“How many sheep have we lost?” she queried him.
“Over a hundred head, Rosamund,” he told her.
She looked at him astounded, and then she shouted, “Uncle, that is intolerable! How many times have they come to help themselves to my flocks? And you have done naught to prevent it?”
Lord Cambridge was now fully awake again.
“What can I do?” Edmund said helplessly.
“You know that they strike when the moon is full,” she said.
“But we do not know where they will strike,” he countered. “The flocks are spread over several hills and in many meadows.”
“Then we must gather the sheep together and separate them into two or three large flocks, that we may have better control of the situation. Then we will post guards with the shepherds and arrange a signal so that when the raiders come the manor may be alerted. We will have a better chance of catching thieves if we do. Friarsgate has been thought impregnable forever. If it is known that the Scots are raiding our flocks, Edmund, heaven only knows what they will raid next!”
“It will take several days to gather the sheep in and realign the flocks. Where will you put them?”
“I must think on it,” Rosamund told him. Then she asked, “When is the next border moon? I do not intend losing another single sheep to these borderers. Damn the Scots! I wonder if Logan Hepburn is involved.”
“I do not know,” Edmund answered her honestly.
“It would be like him to do something like this just to show me that he is cleverer than clever,” Rosamund muttered. “Where is this Claven’s Carn of his anyway, Edmund?”
“Why?” asked her uncle.
“What is a border moon?” Lord Cambridge asked.
“Because I think it is time I paid the Hepburns a visit,” Rosamund answered Edmund, and then she said to her cousin, “It’s a bright full moon, Tom, when traditionally the borderers on both sides of the hills go raiding, because they can see their way about then.”
“I am not certain that it is a good idea that you go to Claven’s Carn,” Edmund said.
“Why not?” she demanded of him. “You say the Scots are raiding my flocks, but that you do not know if they are Hepburns. Well, whether or not they are, I think I should pay Logan Hepburn a visit, uncle. If it is indeed he or his clansmen raiding us, he will know we are aware of it. Perhaps he will even cease, having made some point or other with his behavior. If, however, it isn’t Logan Hepburn raiding my flocks, then perhaps he will know who it is.”
“And you think he will tell you?” Edmund asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Why?” Edmund wanted to know, but Thomas Bolton was already chuckling with his understanding of her tactic.
“My dear girl,” he said, “what a clever puss you are! Of course he will tell you whatever you want to know. How naughty of you to use the man against himself.”
Rosamund grinned at her cousin, then said to her uncle, “Logan Hepburn claims to be in love with me. Well, if he is indeed, then he will want to help me, won’t he?”
“I don’t like it,” Edmund said. “It is somehow dishonest for you to behave like that, Rosamund.”
Maybel spoke up. “You will have to show her the way, Edmund, or she is likely to get herself lost, for you know whatever you may say Rosamund will go to Claven’s Carn.” Rosamund threw her a grateful look. “You had best go tomorrow, my lass, if you are rested by then.”
