“What was the good dream?” he asked the little girl, unable to keep his reluctance and inner confusion out of his voice.
“The good dream is why I sought ye out,” Sibeal replied. “Ye seemed so sad, Uncle Alex, that I thought ye would like to hear about some good things.”
“Aye, lassie, I would.” He felt honestly touched by her concern for him.
“Well, Aunt Ailis wasna in the dark anymore, and her hurting had gone away. I couldna see anything clear, but I ken that she was outside now. She was just walking and walking and walking. Jaime was with her. I could see him. They were both looking right at me as they walked and walked. That means that she is coming back to Rathmor.”
“If I could believe in such things as dreams and visions—aye—I would say that it meant exactly that. However, I dare not let myself believe, not with all my heart.”
Sibeal nodded. The expression on her little face became very solemn. “Aunt Ailis believes, but she says she doesna like to.”
“Well, even if I did believe in it all, I canna send my men out riding over the countryside in this weather. Not with the MacFarlanes and the MacCordys hot for our blood and not upon the account of the dreams of a wee lass,” Alexander explained as kindly as he could. “My men would most likely think me the greatest of fools, even a madman.”
Again Sibeal nodded. “Aunt Ailis wouldna like ye telling folk about my dreams. She says they will make folk treat me as other than just a little lass.”
“Aunt Ailis is right, sweeting.” Barra set his daughter on her feet. “ ‘Tis best to keep such a thing secret. Many people just canna stop themselves from fearing it. Thank ye, lass, for sharing your dream with us. Now—to bed with ye. Do ye wish me to take ye up and tuck ye in?”
“Nay, Papa.” She kissed his cheek. “Good sleep.”
“Good sleep, lassie.”
“I need a drink,” Alexander grumbled as soon as Sibeal had gone, and he rose to stride into the great hall.
Barra followed Alexander and watched closely as his brother downed one tankard full of ale and refilled it before he sat down at the head table. In silence Barra filled his own tankard with hearty cider and joined his brother. Although he fervently wished that Sibeal did not possess her special gift, he was able to accept that a few chosen people were born with the sight. He also completely understood Alexander’s reluctance to accept it. Alexander was a man who strongly preferred facts and reasoning.
“Mairi’s grandmother truly had the sight? That Spanish lady—aye?”
“Aye, Alex. Ailis said that the woman often bemoaned it. According to Ailis, the old woman once said that the only good she could find in it was that it scared the blood right out of Colin.”
Alexander gave a weak laugh. “Ailis once told me that her grandmother detested Colin from the moment she met him. It seems she was a woman with some degree of discernment.”
“Alex, Sibeal isna a child to tell lies or wild tales wrought from imagination.” Barra spoke quietly and kept his gaze fixed upon Alexander’s drawn features. “In truth, ‘tis often too easy to forget just how young Sibeal is.”
“Ah, Barra, ye do ask a lot of me. Since Ailis and the bairns arrived at Rathmor, I have accepted the children, have I not? I have overcome my dislike of their MacFarlane blood. By Mary’s sweet tears, have I not seeded my own bairn in a MacFarlane womb, even handfasted myself to the wench? Must I now accept a niece who can see what will be, who dreams of what is to come? And if I do accept it, what can I do but sit here and wait for this”—he paused as he struggled for the right word—“prophecy to come about? There is naught I can do but wait, naught I can do to prove that the child’s dream is any more than a vision inspired by her own hopes. And, let us be reasonable. Am I to believe that Ailis has eluded the grip of her uncle and her betrothed and all of their men?”
“If any lass could do such a thing, our Ailis could. And if not Ailis, dinna forget Jaime.”
“Nay, I never forget that brute, but is Jaime still alive? Then, too, he is a touch on the simple side.”
“True, although I dinna think he is quite as slow as most believe. And he uses every wee bit of what wit he has when it means aiding Ailis. He may need her brains or the aid of another to get a plan of escape formed or to get them out of Leargan or Craigandubh, but once shown the how of it, there will be no stopping that young giant, even if he dies in the doing of it.”
“Ailis is far gone with our child. She could even be newly arisen from her childbed,” Alexander snapped. “ ‘Tis an impossibility.”
It was no secret to Barra that his brother was weighted down with the situation. Alexander’s fears and pain were clear to hear in his voice. Barra sympathized. He was beset with worry for Ailis. He just wished he had some idea of how deep Alexander’s feelings ran. Barra feared that Alexander himself had no clue as to the depth of his feelings. If Ailis was not carrying Alexander’s child, there was every chance that he might not be so concerned. It made it difficult to know what to say or do.
Barra took a deep breath to prepare himself, then said, “Aye, it may well look impossible, and if your bairn still lives—whether within or without of her belly—‘twould indeed be a very foolhardy thing for her to try and flee. However, neither of those things would stop that lass from trying if she got a chance, any chance at all.”
Alexander briefly closed his eyes as he struggled to push from his mind all thoughts of the hazards of such a venture. “Aye, the fool.”
“I willna argue that with ye, but ‘tis the fate of that bairn she carries that will prompt how the lass acts. Whatever she may think of ye, that bairn is hers. Ye ken as well as I how Ailis will protect her own. Whatever trouble there is between ye and her, she still kens that her child will be safer in your hands. If there is even the scent of a threat to her bairn, that lass would walk barefoot through hell and beyond to save it.”
“Sweet Jesu, she would, too.” Alexander groaned, his fear for Ailis and their child a bitter taste in his mouth. “I can only pray that there is someone at hand to talk some sense into the foolish lass.”
Malcolm glared at Ailis as he talked and paced the great hall. She calmly sat and waited for him to finish his scold so that she could get to bed. She knew she needed a lot of rest for the journey he was so arduously trying to talk her out of.
That his sane and unarguable remarks were being so totally if sweetly ignored put Malcolm into a sour temper. It was an emotional state not helped much by his very real fears for her. In her weakened condition, so newly arisen from her childbed, a hard journey such as she planned could easily kill her. She seemed to be stubbornly oblivious to the dangers she would be facing. Malcolm could not believe that she could be so blind or so stupid.
“Will ye heed me, woman?” he snapped. “This is sheer madness. If ye even reach Rathmor at all, ‘twill be only to fall stone dead at the gate.”
