Who can she give it to? I hope Freya did not cause
Annys too much trouble and that someone can take
care of her. Tell Gybbon I am sorry I did not heed him
about this. Please watch over Andrew. Ink is done.
Mora
Gybbon shook his head. “She babbles. How can one babble in a letter?”
Niall laughed. “Never had a letter from her, have ye. She writes down whatever goes through her mind. We actually missed getting one while in France.”
Jolene took the letter and read it, smiling most of the time, but then she sighed and looked at the men. “She is also scared.”
“How can ye see that? I suspect she is scared, but I didnae see that in the letter.” Gybbon took it back from Jolene and glanced over it. “She does speak of Robert gloating over her hanging, but I cannae really see fear. She sees that they mean for her to die, which is why she asks someone to care for that foolish cat and for Andrew.”
“I cannae tell ye why I see that she is scared here, I just do.”
“One of those things women claim they ken e’en when they have no proof,” Sigimor said, and softly grunted when Jolene hit him in the arm.
“What cat? And who is Freya?” asked Niall.
“Freya is her cat. The one Andrew was stroking?”
“That was the wee runt that someone tried to drown?” David asked, and Gybbon nodded. “It survived?”
“Aye, and dinnae ask me any more about it as I cannae explain that animal except to say it is badly spoiled and doesnae seem to realize it is a cat. Ye will just have to see for yourselves.”
“Then mayhap ye can explain how ye met our sister?”
“She tried to steal my horse.” Gybbon just smiled at the brothers’ shocked faces and helped himself to some bread.
“How long did she stay on him?” asked Harcourt, smiling faintly.
“She didnae e’en get the chance to pick up the reins. He didnae toss her hard though, but she was wounded at the time and that made it a bit worse.”
“Your horse tosses people off?” David asked in surprise.
“Unless ye are properly introduced and approved, if ye get in the saddle, he will toss ye to the ground.”
“What wound did she have?”
“When she first ran from Robert he tried to stick a knife in her. Jolene said it looked like he was trying to gut her. ’Tis closed now and healed. Jolene”—he raised his tankard of cider to the woman in a silent toast—“is a skilled healer.” He could see the fury on the brothers’ faces and nodded in approval.
“I think we had best get over to Wasterburn. We dinnae ken when the laird will rise and make his decision.”
“He doesnae get up until after the noon meal is served,” said Aiden, then blushed deeply when all the adults looked at him. “They say ’tis because he was so sick,” he added, looking at Jolene. “He got better after ye saw him and gave him that potion. Colin still moans about being stuck in the room while it did its work.” He grinned and Jolene laughed.
“Aiden!” called Hilda from the door. “Ye shouldnae be sitting there.”
“Oh, ’tis fine. Are you the woman who got the letter from Mora?” asked Jolene.
“Aye. I thought it might help the lass.”
“Come here then.” Jolene indicated the seat next to the little bench she and Aiden shared, then looked at Sigimor. “This woman has seen Mora.” She then nodded toward Niall and David. “The young men across from us are her brothers. And, you are Hilda?”
“Aye, m’lady.”
