"Yeaskedhim to sing?” demanded Liam.
"Well, at that precise moment, it seemed like a good idea,” she murmured as she and Sigimor moved to sit by the fire.
"It is ne'er a good idea to ask Sigimor to sing."
"He is kind enough to ken the pain it inflicts upon the innocent,” muttered David.
"Oh. I see.” Jolene laughed and looked at Sigimor. “You are taking this criticism very well, I must say."
Sigimor shrugged. “Tis but a wee failing.” He looked at her sternly. “Nay as big a one as getting lost because one wanders too far away and, as a result, gets taken up by one's enemies."
Jolene could see by the look upon Sigimor's face, and those of the other men, that she was about to be informed of all she had done wrong and what rules she would now be expected to follow. She helped herself to a bowl of the rabbit stew one of the men had made. There was no doubt in her mind that she would need the strength the food would give her, if only to keep herself from arguing or getting angry. In her heart, she knew she deserved the scold. She had been careless and put them all at risk. She just hoped she could remember that, she mused, as Sigimor began a somewhat scathing account of all her mistakes. He proved far more skillful at delivering a lecture than her brother Peter and she often had to bite her tongue to keep from defending herself.
"Now, Liam, ye can tell me exactly how much trouble the lass got herself into,” Sigimor said, satisfied by the way Jolene was glaring at him that she had heard and understood every word he had said.
"Weel, Harold had captured her,” replied Liam. “He and two of his men—"
"There were only three men with her?” Sigimor scowled at Liam when he nodded. “We ran from only three men? Did ye nay think it would have been a fine time to put an end to the fool?"
"I did think on that, but they were waiting on the rest of their men. I didnae have time to go and see if those men were near enough to be a threat as weel. We wouldnae fare weel in the killing of Harold if near to a dozen of his men suddenly crept up behind us. I thought it best to just get the lass out of there."
"Aye, aye, ‘twas best. Once ye did that, we lost all chance of surprise anyway, and we were all split up, too. So, how did ye get her away from him?"
"An adder set amongst the horses and the two fools guarding them.” Liam briefly smiled his approval at Jolene as he said, “The lass was quick to seize her chance. She hit Harold upside the head with a rock and ran. The mon was so full of his own plots and boasts, he hadnae e'en tethered her."
"What plans and plots?"
"Oh, all of his devious, traitorous plans to hold fast to Drumwich, of course,” Jolene said quickly, before Liam could reply. “There was naught said which would necessitate you changing any of your plans.” She tried to look calm, even innocent, beneath his steady gaze, but the way his eyes narrowed told her she was probably not entirely succeeding.
"What did ye hear him say, Liam?"
"He is after Lady Jolene to wed her, secure his hold upon Drumwich through her, and use her to help him turn the law full against us and get Reynard back,” Liam replied. “Ye were right to think Harold has heard all about us and so will ken exactly where we are headed. Calls us barbarous, infamous, possessed of a proclivity to breed redheads, and eccentric. He threatens our lives as weel as hers and the bairn's. Oh, and for a moment, he wondered if she had taken one or all of us as her lover, then convinced himself that she would ne'er do such a thing. Is that all of it, lass?"
Jolene sent Liam a look that criedtraitor, but nodded. Since Liam had heard all of that, he must have heard about her dowry as well, but had not mentioned it. Either he had somehow missed Harold's talk of her healthy dowry, or he simply did not consider it an important fact.
"I suspected he wanted her for more reasons than Reynard and what she might ken about Peter's death.” Sigimor looked at Jolene, an idea forming in his mind that surprised him, but did not disconcert him in the slightest. “So, ye either wed with him or ye die."
"Aye,” she replied. “It seems Harold has obtained his dispensation, and has a priest at the ready, both men made very amiable by the generous use of Reynard's fortune."
"He cannae believe he can keepyesweet and silent by wedding ye, can he?"
Jolene fleetingly wondered if there was an insult hidden in that question. “Nay, but he would give it his best effort, which would probably involve the giving of a great deal of pain. I believe he also contemplated cutting out my tongue, but I cannot be entirely sure which he was favoring during the last round of threats—death or mutilation. Of course, I would still be able to write down my accusations, but, if he caught me, he would probably have my hand struck off."
"Weel, one of them anyway.” Sigimor was chilled by the images she painted of her possible fate in Harold's hands.
"Nay, both. I can write with both hands, though ‘tis more legible when I use my right hand. I can write with my right foot, too. Bless me, I could end up as naught but a tiny stump of a woman.” The way the men stared at her made Jolene all too aware of what she had just blithely confessed and she blushed.
"No one can write with their toes. Ye cannae grip a quill with toes. They are too short."
"Most are. Mine are not."
"Show us."
"I most certainly will not."
"Och, weel, we dinnae have a quill and paper anyway. We will see the trick later. Tis nay important now,” Sigimor said before she could argue with that plan. “Now we ken why Harold willnae retreat, willnae give up and go home. Tisnae just the lad he wants. Tisnae just fear that ye may yet get someone to help ye make him pay for his crimes, either.” Sigimor frowned at Jolene. “Ye should have told us he had a thought to marrying you, to using ye to secure his claim to the title, the land,andthe lad."
"Since I have revealed no urge to meekly fall in with his plans, I had rather hoped he had given them up."
