“I would not waste the day here,” she said sharply.
“As soon as your party is ready, lady, we will go,” he told her.
“How is your son?” she asked politely.
His craggy face lit up. “He’s a braw wee laddie, he is. They say he is my image, and it may be true, but he has his mother’s disposition.”
Rosamund couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then you are indeed fortunate, Logan Hepburn,” she told him.
Now he laughed. “Meaning?” he teased her.
“I think we need not go into it, my lord,” she answered him.
He nodded. “Aye,” he said, “for you and I will never agree on anything, will we, Rosamund?”
“I cannot predict the future, Logan Hepburn,” she told him wearily. “Once I thought I could, but it has been proved otherwise this spring.”
Tom came into the hall, followed by Maybel, Philippa, and Lucy. “Ah, you are up already,” he greeted her jovially.
“Do not speak to me, you traitor!” she told him. Then she said, “Our men-at-arms have taken their monies and decamped. The captain would not take us farther. The laird has kindly offered to escort us home today.”
“Gracious! Everyone is already up,” Jeannie said, coming into the hall. “I am a poor hostess, I fear.” She bustled about, speaking with her servants, seeing that the morning meal was quickly served.
“The lady of Friarsgate’s escort has run off,” Logan told his wife. “My men and I will be their protection on the final leg of their journey home today. We should be back by dark, lass.” He kissed the top of Jeannie’s head.
“Of course you must accompany Rosamund and her party,” Jeannie said. “It is the most dangerous part of their trek. Take enough men so that the robbers lurking in the hills will be deterred from attacking.” She turned and smiled at Rosamund. “Borderers, I have discovered, be they Scots or English, can be difficult and rash in their actions.”
Rosamund found herself smiling back briefly. “Aye, they can,” she agreed.
The meal was served, and they sat themselves at the hall’s high board. Lucy had gone to the kitchens to be fed, but Maybel was considered an honored guest by virtue of her long service and her marriage to a Bolton. There was hot oat stirabout served with pitchers of heavy golden cream and equally golden sweet honey. Loaves of fresh bread were placed upon the table along with two bowls of hard-boiled eggs, a crock of newly churned sweet butter, and strawberry conserves. Both watered wine and ale were offered.
“Philippa!” her mother cautioned as the young girl signaled a servant to pour some ale into her goblet. “You will drink watered wine or plain water.”
“Mama!” Philippa protested. “I am nine now!”
“You will not have ale at breakfast until you are twelve,” her mother said.
“Your mam certainly never did,” Maybel enforced Rosamund’s ruling.
“Oh, pooh!” Philippa complained, but then she nodded at the servant with the wine pitcher to serve her.
“I remember being her age,” Jeannie said with a small smile. “Nine is neither fish nor fowl. It is a hard age for a girl.”
When the meal was finished Logan announced that he would assemble his men, and they would depart shortly. He hurried from the hall.
They attended to their needs, and then Rosamund thanked their hostess for her kind hospitality. No mention was made of the lady of Friarsgate’s reluctance to shelter at Claven’s Carn the previous evening.
The two women embraced, and then Jeannie said, “Rosamund, I have a favor to ask of you. Will you be this new baby’s godmother?”
“Surely you have someone else who would suit better,” Rosamund protested.
“Nay, I do not. Logan’s sisters-in-law do not like me since I made Logan give his brothers their own cottages. They attempted to undermine my authority in my own hall because they thought I was young and to be taken advantage of, but I was not so innocent that I did not see. So when Logan asked me what I would have as a reward for giving him a son, I told him I would think on it. After their rudeness to you earlier this spring, I told my husband I wanted his brothers and their families in their own homes. He did not protest my request, but in return his brothers and their wives became my son’s godparents. His brothers were satisfied, but their wives were not.”
“But surely your own family—” Rosamund began, but Jeannie stopped her with a wave of her hand.
“My family comes from the far north. I am but a memory to them. Please, Rosamund, say you will be my new baby’s godmother. You are the only friend I have.”
The girl’s words touched her, and with a small smile Rosamund said, “If your husband, the laird, will agree, then I should be honored to be your baby’s godmother, Jeannie Hepburn.” Jesu! Would she never be free of the Hepburns? She kissed Jeannie’s cheek, then turned and left the hall.
