*
Bartholomew could not leave Haynesdale, not without seeing justice served first!
Anna was aware of his resolve, though, and knew he would do as much if she did not intervene. She admired his respect for the law—indeed, that would make him a good baron and overlord—but she disagreed with his conviction that justice would prevail. Anna had learned to expect the opposite. Justice was won when those who could dispense it had little choice in the matter.
Particularly when it came to righting a wrong. In her view, Bartholomew’s appeal to the king would be vastly improved if he had already claimed the barony from Royce.
Even if that required Royce’s demise.
How could she change Bartholomew’s thinking?
He took the crossbow from her, and she noted how he admired its craftsmanship. It was a finely made weapon, and a baron—in her view—should be a warrior, as well. He had an archer’s hook on his belt, so she knew he could use the weapon and well. Anna gave him the fallen man’s quiver of bolts, as well.
Though he accepted both, he made no acknowledgment of her obeisance, much less Duncan’s comment.
“You are too weakened to go far this day,” he said to Duncan instead. “I would not have come to your sanctuary while the baron’s men pursued us, Anna, for I would not have put the villagers at risk. I would ask you for shelter, though.”
It was not what Anna truly desired of him, but it was better than him leaving immediately.
Perhaps she would have a chance to persuade him.
“Of course.” Anna rose to her feet and gestured for them to follow.
Duncan stood with a small groan, but kept a good pace when Bartholomew took his arm. “That bastard beat me truly,” he said through his teeth. “Though it was not a fair fight.”
“His kind does not fight fair, Duncan,” Bartholomew agreed, and Anna was glad that he had some understanding of the nature of the men beneath Royce’s command.
To her relief, both men moved quietly through the forest. It made no sense to blindfold them, since Bartholomew had come from the refuge earlier that day, and she thought it might be a good sign of trust not to suggest the blindfold for Duncan. She still guided them on a circuitous path to ensure they were not followed. The snow was falling with greater volume which meant it would quickly disguise their tracks.
When they reached the edge of the haven, she heard a whistle, like that of an owl.
Moments later, they were seated beneath a lean-to, where soup simmered on a low fire. If Duncan was surprised to find so many people hidden in the forest and living as outlaws, he hid his reaction well.
“You are saved!” Percy cried and flung himself so hard at Duncan that the Scotsman near lost his balance. “He saved me!” he declared to the others and Duncan ruffled his hair.
“It is likely too much to hope that you will give up thieving,” he said gruffly and Percy laughed.
That Duncan was Bartholomew’s friend and had been brought by Anna would have been sufficient to see him welcomed, but Percy’s greeting ensured his welcome was even warmer. Edgar found him a seat by the fire, and Willa served him a brimming bowl of soup. There was yet a bit of bread left and it was given to Duncan without discussion. The soup was thin but warm, and Anna saw Duncan’s surprise when he tasted it.
“Chicken?” he asked, looking about himself. The company laughed.
“Esme brought her hens from the village two years ago,” Anna said. “She refused to leave the flock behind, so we have eggs instead of the keep.”
Duncan bit back a smile and clearly savored the soup. It seemed to restore him greatly, though the bruise on his face looked sore. She wondered how many other bruises he sported, for Royce’s men could be cruel.
Willa refilled the bowl with a smile. “I wish we had better, since you have been in Haynesdale’s dungeon.”
“It is the finest meal I have eaten in a long while, lass. I thank you for it.”
Percy demanded the tale of Duncan’s escape and Bartholomew told some of it, though Anna expected he was unduly modest. Duncan’s quick sidelong glances confirmed her suspicions. He gave her great credit for saving him from the archer and showed the bow to the others. Duncan asked if any man had a steel, and set to honing their daggers while the boys watched with interest.
The snow fell thickly, blanketing the world in white and bringing a peaceful quiet to the forest. All the while, Anna puzzled over the question of how to convince Bartholomew to stay, or to overthrow Royce before he departed to the king’s court. He could be gone months once he left, for the king was likely in Anjou, and crossing to France in winter could be precarious. He might not return at all. The very notion chilled her, like a hand of ice closing around her heart.
Her dismay was not entirely for fear of the future of Haynesdale.
Nay, she would miss him.
And she would miss the conviction that the true son would return, no less the hope that such a belief gave her. She surveyed the tired group of villagers and feared that many of them would lose hope, as well. She could not bear to see them suffer more than they had.
