"Clyde was duly impressed by your show of gratitude, I am certain.” She looked around what was obviously the main burial chamber in what she suspected were some very old catacombs. “I wonder why Sigimor did not think to look here."
"Martin believes they have only recently been unsealed and after a very long time, too."
"M'lord,” said Martin as he strode up to Harold, “I have a message from your kinsmen."
"We were not to make any contact with them until the morrow."
"They caught one of the men we had sent to watch them and gave it to him to deliver."
"Well, what is it then?"
"They ask for a meeting, m'lord. Your kinsman Sir Roger sends his greetings and requests that you or a man of your choosing meet with him on the morrow."
"Where and when?"
"'Bout two miles south from here, at a clearing. One hour after dawn. Tis easy to find. But a few yards from here you can begin to see the top of an old peel tower. Head straight for that and you enter the clearing."
"How many men does he have?” Harold asked after frowning in thought for a moment.
"A score,” replied Martin, “and two Scots. I think they might be MacFingals. They have the look of those bastards. They were the ones who caught our man."
Harold cursed and dragged his hand through his hair. “I must needs think on this. Is a reply requested?"
"Nay. Your reply will be if you come to the meeting."
Nodding, Harold suddenly glared at Jolene. “Take that sniveling brat and go sit down somewhere. I need to think."
More than happy to get away from Harold, Jolene picked Reynard up and sought a place to sit down. She moved away from the bodies of Barbara and her companion toward a large stone coffin set against the far wall. After a moment of thought, she sat down at the end of it, her back against the wall, putting herself and Reynard into the shadows. Jolene watched as Harold paced. She held Reynard close and hoped that whatever held Harold's attention so firmly did so for a long time.
Cousin Roger was close, she thought, and let the joy of that news wash over her. Jolene felt certain that would give Reynard a chance. With the opportunity to trade Reynard's life for his so close at hand, she was certain Harold would grab it. There was little chance he would hold to any agreement he might make, but at least Reynard would be taken out of the hands of his enemy. She was certain Roger would do what was needed to make Harold give him the boy.
She forced herself to ignore her own possible fate. Jolene knew that, if she let herself start wondering about what Harold might do to her, she would quickly lose her already tenuous control of the fear inside her. She needed to be brave for Reynard's sake, to try to remain calm, and that meant ignoring her place in Harold's dark plans. Sigimor would be looking for her soon, she told herself, and clutched at that hope like a shield against Harold and her own fears.
To keep herself from thinking on what she would soon face if she did not get away from Harold, she listened carefully to what was being said. Neither Martin nor Harold bothered to speak quietly and their voices carried well in the chamber. Harold's anger, she noticed, was no longer so well controlled.
"The boy will buy us our freedom, m'lord,” said Martin.
"Aye, aye, but if I could get him back to Drumwich myself, there is still a chance I could gain control. The boy is the key to it all, Martin,” Harold snapped when Martin shook his head.
"The only thing that boy is the key to now is our freedom. Sir Roger has a score of men with him. Since he also has two MacFingals with him, and they are not trying to steal his horses, that means he is being aided by the allies of the Camerons. They have brought him here to join with the Camerons against us. I am thinking that means Sir Roger knows everything and might well have some power behind him. Ransom the boy, for our freedom, for our lives, and, mayhap, for whatever coin the man is carrying."
"And then what? Where will we go?"
"France or some other country where we can sell our swords.” Martin watched Harold pace some more. “And you might consider ransoming the woman as well."
"Never!” Harold yelled. “She is the reason we are in this mess! She has ruined everything and I want to make her pay for that. I want to make her suffer for it.” He searched the chamber until he saw Jolene and glared at her. “You married that Scot."
"How did you discover that?” she asked.
"The priest. We followed you there,” Harold replied, moving closer, clenching and unclenching his fists. “He told us after a little persuasion loosened his tongue. Aye, and he paid dearly for his part in that, as you will."
"You killed a priest?” Jolene was surprised that anything Harold did could still shock her, but this did.
"Nay. At least, he was not dead when we left him, although he was probably wishing he was."
"That priest is a Cameron, Harold,” she said and heard Martin curse. “A cousin. You have just given them e'en more reason to hunt you down. You will probably be able to use Reynard to deal with Sir Roger, but the Camerons will hunt you all the way to the sea.” Harold looked unmoved by her threat, but she noticed Martin narrow his eyes in thought.
"Why should that trouble me? They have been no threat thus far. They do naught but run from us, and hide."
