“Of course, my lady,” Mistress Marjory said with a curtsy. “Is there anything else I may help you with today?”
“Oil of lavender,” Cicely said. “Where may I find some?”
“The apothecary shop on the far side of the High Street. You passed it on your way here,” Mistress Marjory replied.
“Thank you for your time,” Cicely responded politely. Then she and Orva left the shop. The street urchin looked to her anxiously as he returned the reins of their horses to the two women. Cicely dug into her purse and drew out a small silver penny. “Here you are, lad,” she said, flipping it to him.
He caught it easily and, bobbing his head, dashed off as the two women rode away.
Inside the shop Mistress Marjory watched them go. Then she called to one of her apprentices to come to her. “Watch the shop,” she said, gathering up her cloak. “I have an errand to do.” And she hurried forth from her establishment. Making her way from the High Street and through a maze of narrower streets, she finally arrived at a small, nondescript tavern. Reluctantly she entered it, clutching her cloak about her so it touched nothing that might soil it. To her relief the tavern room was empty but for a lone man. She shivered when he looked at her, for he had but a single eye. His other eye, having beengouged from his head, was no more than a hollow of scar tissue. “I have a message for the Douglas of Glengorm,” Mistress Marjory said.
“I’ll see he gets it,” the one-eyed man said. “What is it?”
“Tell the laird the item he seeks will be at my shop in three days’ time,” Mistress Marjory said.
“Best to make it four days,” the man said. “ ’Tis not a short ride here to there and back, mistress. And this day’s half gone already.”
Mistress Marjory nodded. “Four days then,” she said, thinking she must send word to the palace. Then, turning abruptly, she quickly left the dark little tavern.
When she had gone, the one-eyed man called out, “Davy, to me, lad!”
“Aye, Da, what is it?” the young boy who answered him asked.
“Take the horse the laird left us and ride to Glengorm. Tell him Mistress Marjory says the item he seeks will be at her shop in four days’ time. Go quickly, laddie, for the laird will barely have time to reach Perth if you don’t.”
The boy dashed from the room and hurried to saddle the horse in the ramshackle shed behind the little inn, then he rode off and out from the town. He rode south for several hours until the moon was high. Then he stopped for two hours to rest the beast and let him graze and drink from a nearby stream while he ate an oatcake from his pouch and drank some water from his flask. Leaning back against a large rock where he had sheltered, the boy closed his eyes and dozed briefly. Then, taking advantage of the bright full moon, he rode on until almost dawn, when he stopped to rest his animal once again. He rode through the next day and night, halting at intervals for the horse’s sake.
Dawn was just breaking when, a day and a half later, the innkeeper’s son reached Glengorm. Beneath him the horse seemed rejuvenated. His ears perked up. He tossed his head and neighed a loud whinny. His step quickened as he brought his exhausted rider through a treed glen and up a hill to a large stone house, where he finally stopped.The boy half fell, half dismounted and, going to the large oak door, knocked loudly upon it until he finally heard the locks being unfastened and the door swung open.
“What is it you want?” an elderly woman in an apron asked.
“I have a message for the laird from Perth,” Davy, the innkeeper’s son, said.
“Come in then, lad. Are you hungry? You look like you’ve ridden all night,” the old woman said.
“Two nights, mistress,” the boy told her.
“Blessed Mother, you must be fair worn! Is the horse still alive?”
The boy grinned. “Aye, but as tired as I am, I fear. But I know better than to run a good animal into the ground, mistress.”
“Come into the hall, lad. The laird is just up, and having a bit of breakfast,” the woman said, leading him into a stone-and-timber chamber. “Here’s a lad wi’ a message for you from Perth, Master Ian.”
Ian Douglas waved the boy forward. “You’ll be Ranald’s son, eh?”
“Aye, my lord,” Davy said with a brief bob of his head.
“What message do you have for me then?”
“Mistress Marjory wants you to know that the item you seek will be at her shop in four . . .” He stopped. “Nay, that’s not right.” Then his brow lightened. “Two days’ time!” he said triumphantly. “ ’Twas four the day I left Perth, but ’tis two this morning.”
“Tell your father you did well, lad. You’ll travel back to Perth with me in two hours’ time. Go with Mab to the kitchens to get something to eat, and rest yourself by the hearth,” Ian Douglas instructed the boy. He turned to a serving man who loitered nearby. “Go and find my brother. Tell him we’re going to Perth this day.” Then he returned to his breakfast.
Fergus Douglas came into the hall. “Why are we going to Perth?” he demanded to know. “Marion doesn’t like my being away when her time is so near.”
“We’re going bride stealing, little brother,” the laird said with a grin. “Glengorm will very shortly have a new mistress.”
“What have you done?” Fergus asked his sibling suspiciously.
