Mort touched his arm and shook his head. Brighit’s head was down so she missed the gesture.
“My lady, did he threaten you?” Mort asked.
She glanced sideways at him for just a moment. “I’m sure I’ve said too much already.”
Peter stopped.
Mort said, “Lady Brighit, it is clear to me that you have been ill-treated by these men. Mayhap we can work together to find out why.”
“Will you not accept my protection?” The words stung Peter’s heart even as he spoke them.
He had not been there for Jeanette but he would be for Brighit. Resolve settled in the depths of his heart. “My protection will not be withdrawn, my lady. I will see that no harm comes to you.”
“Indeed. We will reach the Priory with you none the worse for wear—” Mort broke out into a smile “Maybe a little worse for wear since we are now forced to walk.”
Brighit sighed. “Beg pardon, Sir Peter. I take your protection as my own but wonder if Ivan and his men were to return, would I be handed back over to them?”
“We will not gainsay your decision to stay or return.” Peter had an almost overwhelming desire to punch something.
She smiled. “Yes. Then I will take your protection with the understanding that Ivan no longer has any hold over me.”
“And that is at it should be,” Peter said.
“We should keep walking,” Mort reminded them both and they all started out again.
“The tall man was hooded and it was just getting dark,” Brighit said. “He and my uncle were arguing when I came upon them. My uncle had just yelled something about someone not being a problem. I was afraid he meant me and that he was changing his mind about seeing me to the Priory.”
“They ceased their talking as soon as my uncle spotted me. Then he dragged me back into the inn. I was told Ivan would protect me until he returned. When it was time to board the curragh, I was immediately sick at the movement and my uncle never got on with us.”
Her pace quickened with the ending of her remembrance.
Mort gave her a reassuring smile and nodded.
“Not a lot of information,” Peter said.
“I’m sorry. I was upset to be leaving my home.”
He knew he was being harsh but the frustration at not being able to complete one simple task—like seeing her safely to the Priory—was grating on his nerves. The King would be sending soldiers to support Peter taking the castle in less than a week unless he sent word that all was well.
The morning stretched on and they kept a clipped pace. Their silence was broken only by occasional greetings from the few travelers they passed, all going in the opposite direction. Finally a young boy went by with an older woman Peter assumed was his mother. He had an excited look about him and a big grin.
“Mornin’,” he said. “Fine day.”
The child passed Brighit and handed her a tiny, blue flower.
Her face brightened.
“Look out for the cooper,” his mother said over her shoulder. “He seems fair and honest but he had no problem taking from my son.”
Peter turned back to face the departing pair. “It must be market day.”
Brighit smelled the flower. “It smells wonderful.”
“That flower looks quite fresh. It is probably just ahead.”
“Thank you!” Brighit yelled to the two who were already twenty paces beyond them. The little boy waved back. She placed it carefully behind her ear. “Wait.” She turned back at the departing pair. “We may have passed them.”
The three exchanged glances. Peter trotted after the pair. “Please. Can we have a word with you?”
