"If you are putting your faith in Harold to keep his word, then you are a fool,” said Jolene.
"The mon and I have an understanding. I give him what he wants and I get what I want—money and a clear path to Sigimor. What Harold is giving me will keep me quite comfortable until I can get Sigimor before a priest."
"The only way you will get Sigimor before a priest is if he is attending your funeral. And, if you are putting your trust in Harold, that is a distinct possibility."
"Oh, ye are so tiresome. Harold willnae betray us. We are already quite close. If he wasnae an Englishmon, I would consider him a good choice for a husband. He would certainly understand my need to avenge the insult I have suffered.” She tied her cloak on and tugged the hood over her hair. “We had best be on our way. I want to be back here by the time Sigimor returns."
"Just how do you plan to get out of here?"
"Why Clyde has found a bolthole. All keeps have them and Clyde is verra good at sniffing them out. Finds one where'er we go. Found Harold a good place to hide, too. I am sure it has amused him to ken that the Camerons are hunting him everywhere with no success."
Barbara went to the fireplace, turned a strange carving at the far edge of the mantel, and an opening in the thick stone wall slowly appeared. Clyde grabbed a torch from the wall sconce next to the fireplace, and, with his knife at Reynard's small back, nudged the boy ahead of him into the gloomy passageway. Smiling sweetly, Barbara waved Jolene to follow him. Knowing she had no choice, Jolene started toward the doorway set deep in the wall. She paused just inside, however, as Barbara grabbed a candle then frowned at Donald who had not made any move to join her.
"Weel? Come along,” she ordered her cousin. “We are wasting time."
"Nay, I will stay here,” said Donald, his eyes looking brilliant against his ashen face.
"Why?"
"Because this is as far as I will go in this."
"If ye betray me, Donald, ye will pay for it."
"Oh, aye, I ken it. I understand now exactly what ye are capable of, Cousin. Have no fear of that."
"Good, I mean it. If Sigimor asks ye where his wife has gone, ye had best say nothing. Swear it?"
"I swear it. If Sigimor asks me that, I willnae say a word. I will leave the lies to you. Ye are better at it."
"Weel, of course I am. Ye were ne'er as good as I am.” Barbara turned to glare at Jolene. “Move. I cannae be gone too long."
Jolene cast one last look at Donald then headed down the passageway. A moment later she heard Barbara follow her. It was as dark and narrow as the one she had used to flee Drumwich and Harold. She thought it a little ironic to be taking a similar route right back into the danger she had escaped from.
Donald rose and shut the passageway, then rested his forehead against the cool stone. After a moment, he moved back to his seat by the table and returned to his carving. Barbara had gone too far this time. He would wait. The Camerons would return soon. He was confident one of them would stumble on the way to get him to tell them what he knew without his having to break his vow to Barbara. He just hoped he survived the confrontation. He was almost certain that Barbara would not survive the one she was headed toward.
"I think the mon has gone back to England,” said Somerled as he tossed aside the cloth he had just used to dry himself off, and reached for his clean clothes.
Sigimor sighed as he rubbed his hair dry and glanced around at the men who had ridden with him today. They were all crowded into the large bathing shed he had had built a few years ago just for this purpose, the sudden arrival of nearly a score of filthy men all anxious to clean the mud off. Every one of them was waiting for his response to Somerled's words. The fact that they could find no sign of Harold and his men after two days did seem to imply that the man had finally given up.
"Nay,” he said, “I dinnae think he has.” He hung his drying cloth on one of the many hooks on the wall and started to get dressed. “He has gone to ground."
"Then we should have found him. We ken this land better than he does."
"Aye, but that doesnae mean he couldnae have stumbled upon a good hiding place. There are a lot about.” He looked at his twin and shrugged. “I cannae explain it, but I am that certain that he is out there, and close."
"Had a vision, did ye, Sigimor?” called out his brother Ranulph.
Sigimor nodded in silent agreement as Tait and Nanty threw Ranulph into one of the many large vats used for bathing. “I just think that a mon who has been hunting us so hard, who rode away from and thus risks losing what he has already killed to gain, isnae going to tuck his tail between his legs and slink home now."
"Nay, probably not,” Somerled agreed reluctantly as he started out of the shed beside Sigimor. “Tis just a wee bit humiliating that we cannae seem to find an enemy hiding on our own lands."
"I ken it.” Sigimor felt himself tense as Fergus came running out of the keep. “What is it, lad?” he asked when the boy stumbled to a halt in front of him. Fergus's freckles stood out brilliantly against the linen-pale color of his face.
"They are gone!” Fergus grabbed Sigimor by the arm and tugged him toward the keep. “Jolene and Reynard are gone! They went to speak to that woman and now they are gone."
A chill entered Sigimor's veins. For a moment he could do no more than allow Fergus to pull him along. It was not until they were inside the keep and he saw an equally pale Old Nancy on the stairs that he gained some control of his shock.
"Are ye sure they are gone?” he asked her.
