“And was that the reason ye beat the laird of Whytemont and tossed him into the water to drown?”
“What? I . . . He wouldnae give us the lad!”
Callum fought the urge to say something because he suddenly saw what Sir Simon was doing. Lulled by easy questions he had ready answers for, ones that could be answered without incriminating himself, the scarred man was thrown off when given a hard one and blurted out the truth. He was eager to see how the technique would work in getting the information to set Bethoc and Laurel free.
Sir Simon settled down on the ground, sipped his drink, and then began to question the other man, tricking him into also confessing the attack on Callum. Callum sat down on the ground to watch. It was as good as a play. Sir Simon showed no reaction with each hard truth he pulled out. He quietly listened and then pressed for more.
“I must say, it has been a long time since I have uncovered such a putrid mess. Corruption, bribes, murder, anticipated murder, and the use of helpless women to steal land.” Sir Simon stood up, handed Robbie his empty tankard, and brushed his hands off. “Ye will, of course, hang but ye will have a lot of company on the gallows.”
“No one will heed ye,” the scarred man said but the taint of panic was in his voice.
“Oh, aye, they will. Ye see, I am nay just a knight or a laird. I was served as the king’s mon. They called me the King’s Hound. Unflattering but useful.”
When Sir Simon walked away, Callum followed. “Ye, sir, are a marvel.”
Sir Simon laughed. “Thank ye, but there is naught marvelous about it. Ye make them calm with easy questions they have readied, practiced answers for, answers that will nay hurt them, and then abruptly slip in a hard one. They almost always falter then. Only the truly evil can evade the trap and these men are naught but hired brutes.”
“So we take them to the sheriff now?”
“Och, aye, and I will enjoy presenting them to the sheriff.” Sir Simon smiled. “From what ye have told me of the mon, that fool will break fast and give us a flood of information. I feel there will be a lot of men in positions of power who will fall soon. The fact that it involves the taking of land implies it. Then mayhap the people in the village will breathe easily again.”
“Thank ye for this, for coming so quickly.”
Sir Simon waved away the thanks. “Too many similarities to what happened to my wife Ilsabeth to resist. Women are too often seen as nay more than easy prey. Few risk standing up for them, either. And if what ye say is true, she could be a cousin. But this has felt good. I do like to keep my hand in, keep my skills sharp. Now, let us load these fools on a horse and go get the women free.”
“I pray we are in time.”
“Aye.” Sir Simon’s face darkened. “We will be or someone will pay.”
As they tossed the men on the back of their own horses, Callum felt his tension grow. He could not forget that huddled bundle of rags that was Laurel, a poor abused woman unfairly accused. Each day that passed, he could see Bethoc becoming that. It had only been four days since he had seen her, but he thought that three too many. Her place in that jail ate at him until he found himself making plans on how to break her out of the jail. He was glad he did not have to carry out any of those plans and he prayed the delay did not cost Bethoc too dearly.
* * *
Bethoc slumped against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. The footsteps had not been coming for her. They had been dragging in another poor woman. She felt sorry for her as it was possible they were blaming her for some crime she had not committed as well. If so, why was no one taking any notice? Did they think there was some outbreak of murderous rage among the women in town? Did all these women have no one ready to stand for them? Why was there no one in town simply asking about what was happening?
“Laurel? Was there no one to stand for ye? No one to ask why?”
“Nay. My family was pleased about my marriage but then they, weel, drifted away. They still had six children and Robert wasnae verra welcoming. What hurt was that my own mother believed I did it. She visited me here once and berated me for nay quietly enduring whate’er Robert did.”
“Sorry.” Bethoc sighed. “Do ye think the woman they just dragged in has anyone?”
“Nay. That was Lorraine Halliday. Orphaned. She had a husband much like mine so I suspicion there were nay too many friends. I dinnae ken what she has that they want, though. Mayhap the building the shop is in.” She shrugged. “I wonder if we can find out what she was taken up for. I dinnae ken her weel enough to e’en guess.”
“They have quite a nice business going here, dinnae they,” Bethoc muttered.
“Oh, aye. I wonder who leads it all. I just cannae believe it is the laird.”
“Mayhap one of his sons. Does he have sons?”
“Four. Aye, it could be one of the younger ones. It doesnae matter. ’Tis still too late for Yolanda.”
“Yolanda?”
“A woman who was here when I was brought in. She wasnae much older than me. They hanged her a few days ago for the murder of her husband.”
“Oh,Jesu,” Bethoc whispered. “’Tis what we face, aye?”
“Aye. I just dinnae ken when. She had a wee boy, too, and constantly wept for him.”
