The green man trembled before them, his eyes darting skyward as the lightning hit the water. As if catching himself, he fixed his gaze on them and lifted his bow higher still. “Aye, but slowly now.”
Even though he stood farther away than his bow could hit a mark with any degree of accuracy, it was three of them to his one arrow, and they were mounted, they did as commanded.
“Are ye islanders?” he asked.
“No. We are travelers from the south. I am Niall.” He gestured toward them. “This is Lachlann and Aldred.”
Lachlann tipped his chin to the man, who kept glancing behind them as if more interested in the storm at sea. The next strike of lightning revealed his paling countenance.
Niall continued. “We’re on a pilgrimage from Restenneth Priory. Do ye know of it?”
“I do not.” As the slim man searched the sky, his arrow dipped again.
With the slightest shake of his head, Niall dismounted but indicated he did not want Lachlann or Aldred to follow him. Instead, he alone moved toward the young man and asked, “What is yer name?”
Startled by Niall’s sudden closeness, the boy glanced toward Lachlann and Aldred, who hadn’t moved. He seemed to collapse a bit in relief.
“I am called Cull.” Unnocking the arrow, he tucked it back into his quiver and extended a hand to Niall. “Welcome, travelers.”
“Many thanks.” Niall gripped his wrist before remounting. “Is there a place about where we might find shelter?”
They had seen nothing to indicate any sort of refuge nearby, but Cull nodded, his eyes again darting heavenward.
“Is it far from here?” Lachlann asked. “We are about to be doused with a heavy rain.”
“Not far.” Cull glanced at their horses, a grin on his lips. “Especially not if ye’re mounted.”
Niall smiled as well, offering a hand to the slim man to help him up. “Well, then, let us be about it.”
They were off at a gallop in the direction Cull indicated. The sound of the rain against the water came ominously closer. At the bend in the road, he released what looked like a death grip from around Niall’s waist just long enough to indicate the highest point across the clearing. The dark outline of a large building enclosed with a tall fence was just visible. The sturdy wooden gates closed tight against intruders.
“Hail!” Cull called out when they were close and forced to slow their pace or take the chance of being mistaken as assailants. He pulled back his hood, revealing a good head of dark, curly locks. “I have returned. ’Tis Cull!”
The first drops of the cold, heavy rain hit them just as the gates opened and a young lad darted out to reach for their horses. Cull dropped off Niall’s horse and ran to embrace a dark-haired woman who came from the castle to meet him. The gates quickly closed behind them.
Niall, Lachlann, and Aldred dismounted more slowly.
“This way,” Cull called over his shoulder, his arm about her slim shoulders. “See to their mounts.” Cull had to speak loudly to be heard over the wind, but the stable lad nodded.
The five of them dodged the huge raindrops, running toward the open door where the light streamed out in welcome. They made it inside just as the deluge began. Surrounded by the warmth of a huge fire built right into the wall of the cooking area and the smell of baking bread, they wiped the dampness from their faces, removed theirbratswith a shake,and handed their mantles to a waiting servant. Cull smiled at the lass and kissed her soundly on the mouth.
“Ye’ve taken forever,” she said, her warm smile belying her angry tone. “And ye’ve brought prisoners besides?”
Cull clearly appreciated her jest, winking at the men to confirm that it was just humor.
“These are pilgrims from Restenneth Priory.”
Niall bowed and introduced each of them.
She held Cull’s hand close to her side even when she curtsied. “Pleased to meet ye.”
“This is Rhona, my wife.” Cull offered a shy smile as if the use of the title was still new to him.
He might be a bit reluctant to tear his gaze away and back to them. The lass’s blue eyes dwelt on him so fondly. Lachlann understood if that were the case.
Cull asked, “So, tell us what ye seek?”
Rhona swatted at her husband, pressing her lips in an irritated way. “Will ye not even offer them something to eat?” She rolled her eyes. “Ye have the manners of a wild boar. Without our mormaer here to greet them proper,ye’llhave to make them welcome.”
