"Speakin' of women," Fergus spoke up, surprising everyone by the fact that his voice rose above the others, "Have ye brought us another spy? Shall we send her tae Morag and the lassies in the Sparrows?"
"With those delicate hands?" someone called. "That's nae spy. A seamstress, maybe. A camp cook."
"A bedwarmer," someone jeered.
Cailean spun around, anger surging through him. "Who said that?" he demanded.
Nobody spoke.
Scowling, Cailean said, "I thought ye better men than this. Whoever spoke will step forward now, if he's man enough tae admit his sins.”
For a moment, nobody moved, then a sheepish-looking Bruce cousin — Cailean could not remember his name off the top of his head, but the lad was only sixteen or seventeen at most — stepped forward.
"It was only a joke, sir," the lad said.
Darren reached back and smacked his cousin across the head. "Ye're an eejit, Dirk," he said. "Apologize tae the lady."
"I'm sorry," young Dirk said, his face turning red. "I didnae mean anythin' by it, I?—"
"Enough. We're meant tae be better than the English and the men we fight against," Cailean said, his tone severe. "Dirk, ye've apologized, and if the lady accepts, it's done. But if I hear another such comment from any of ye about this lass oranyof the women in our camp or in the village, yer punishment will be much harsher. Understood?"
A chorus of "aye, sir!" sounded around him, and Cailean noticed Senan and Hamish exchange meaningful glances. Hehadn't meant to take charge like that, and he was surprised by how good it felt to be obeyed. Feeling confused but hiding it, he turned to the lady on the horse and said, "Do ye accept his apology, me lady?"
"A Lady I am nae, and I dinnae need his apology," the woman declared. Her accent gave her away as someone of higher breeding, but there was a strong determination to her voice that caused everyone to fall quiet. She slid down off her horse and moved to stand next to Senan, fire blazing in her eyes. "Thank ye for standin' up for me, but I didnae need that either."
Her passion was unmistakable, but now that she stood before him, Cailean's doubts grew. She was small and slight, obviously bruised and exhausted by the bags under her eyes, and they didn't have time to support her. Perhaps she was here to seek refuge in the village, but given the way she was speaking, he doubted it.
"What do ye need, then?" he asked her, folding his arms.
"Mary is here tae train," Senan said when the girl didn't answer. "She's been workin' with me for weeks, and now she's ready tae join the rebellion."
"Look at her," Darren said doubtfully, expressing in his voice what Cailean was thinking in his heart. "Forgive me, lass, I'm sure yer heart and passion are strong, but would ye nae be more comfortable helpin' out in some other way? Ye dinnae seem the type tae fight, and our camp is always in need of healers or?—"
"I'm nae healer," Mary interrupted. "Nor cook nor seamstress nor even a spy. I'm someone who's seen the injustice in this world around me and lived through much of it too, and I'm tired of it. When Senan offered me this chance tae fight against it, I kent I had to take it. I'm here tae bleed and fight and die if necessary, tae be the warrior for justice and for me country that I was always meant tae be. Woman or not."
Muttering ran through the crowd at these words and it was clear to Cailean at least that her speech had impressed some people. Certainly, the genuineness and spirit in her was appealing, but it left a bad feeling in his gut nonetheless. It wasn't that he was against having women in the rebellion — certainly, many of them cut fine figures and could rival many of the men. But this one gave him a feeling he didn't understand. She was so small and slight and he worried that if he went along with this, he'd have only her death on his conscience.
He could feel everyone's eyes on him and he knew that they were all expecting him, as the unofficial trainer of the people here in the rebel camp, to make the final decision on whether this Mary could stay or not. If Senan had brought her, then really there should be no question: Senan, not Cailean, was one of the council, and so Senan's decision should be sacrosanct. But Cailean knew that if he objected, Senan would agree.
Should he? They could house the girl with someone in the village for a while until they found something else to do with her. Maybe they could contact Morag and her White Sparrows and see if they could take this girl in.
He met Mary's eyes. She was watching him, unblinking, determination on her lips and blaring in her expression. She was not interested in arguing with him, he realized, nor would she be willing to compromise.
"I'm here tae fight," she said again as if she'd read his mind. "Will ye teach me?"
Cailean met Senan's eyes then sighed. The old man was watching him with unabashed curiosity. So be it then.
"Ye can stay," he said, turning back to Mary. "And we will teach ye. But I warn ye, we willnae go easy."
Senan laughed. "Ye think I've been goin' easy on her, Cailean?" he asked.
Privately, Cailean suspected so. Senan was an amazing mentor, strong and tough, but he was also kind at heart. He imagined that the trainer had pulled his punches with this lovely young woman. But Cailean needed Mary to understand that it wouldn't be like that here.
"If ye cannae manage, ye'll leave," he said. He truly believed that she would give up before sundown the next day. "But ye can stay for now, if ye can follow orders."
Mary grimaced. "I can follow orders," she said. "But will ye train me tae fight, or will ye try tae make me somethin' else? I ken ye dinnae want tae train a woman?—"
"I never said that."
