Frowning slightly in confusion, Jennet asked Elizabeth, “Robert joins Hacon’s men?”
“Aye, that was my other news. He and his brother Donald have taken up with Sir Hacon. I best hurry back to my man. We can talk later.” Elizabeth strode away.
As Hacon led her to a clear, dry spot beneath a scraggly pine, Jennet regarded him in surprise. “Robert is a freedmon who can still choose to whom he will declare loyalty?” Sitting down, she took Murdoc into her arms.
Hacon nodded as he sat beside her. “Free and without landed kinsmen or a liege lord. He and young Donald asked if they might pledge themselves to my family. I agreed. Once they are settled at Dubheilrig, I believe the rest of their family will join them. New blood and a few more skillfully wielded swords will be welcome.”
She nodded, biting back the question—WouldIbe welcome? At least now she would know where Elizabeth was. Her new friend would not be completely lost to her.
That thought did not lift her spirits as much as she would have liked, however. Her future was still unknown, even as to whatshewished it to be. That some of the uncertainty was of her own making did not help her feel any better.
When Murdoc stumbled off her lap to practice his awkward walk, she half smiled. There was something good she would be left with no matter how things turned out between her and Hacon. She would have Murdoc. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be allowed to keep the child. As she quickly stopped Murdoc from munching on a pinecone, she decided it was time to hold in her mind all her blessings. Such as the fact that I am still alive, she thought, and inwardly sighed.
“Ye are looking very woeful, lass,” Hacon murmured, slipping his arm about her shoulders and tugging her close.
“I am weary, ’tis all.” She relaxed against him.
“Aye, we move fast and o’er hard ground. We seek to put the defense of rough land twixt us and the English.”
“I ken it. They could yet cease their bickering, garner their courage, and set after us.” She smiled faintly as she watched Murdoc toddle unsteadily over to some of Hacon’s men, who lay sprawled lazily beneath a large tree. “The lad will soon be running about. His skill increases daily. ’Tis strange indeed, but he appears to thrive in this hard life.”
“He will make a fine warrior.”
“Mayhaps,” she drawled, “he will make a fine priest.”
She almost laughed at Hacon’s look of utter dismay.
“Nay, ’twould be a sin to keep such a fine lad from breeding more of his ilk,” he said.
A moment later men began to move, activity sweeping through their numbers from the front on back. Silently she and Hacon stood up and brushed themselves off. She did not look forward to three or four more days of travel. It would be a hard trek through the border uplands, through forests teeming with boar, wildcats, and wolves, with the twin dangers of deadly thieves or some vengeful English force. As Hacon put Murdoc back inside the sling on her back, she decided that going to her kinsmen might not be such a bad idea after all. At least there she would get some rest from the constant travel and the equally constant danger.
“Come, loving,” Hacon murmured as he helped her onto her pony. “Soon we may rest for more than a few hours.”
She forced a smile. “That is something to look forward to.”
He gave her a brief kiss and strode off toward his own mount. As Jennet waited for Ranald to join her, she watched the men start on their way. Instead of numbering in the thousands, they would now be a small party of only twenty or so. It would feel strange to travel without so many men about, but she knew there were some things she would not miss. She was weary of the mud, the dust, and the fighting.
“Ready?” Ranald’s soft question brought her out of her reverie.
“Aye.” As he nudged his horse forward, she gently kicked her pony into motion.
“Soon we will reach your village in Liddesdale and ye will ken your father’s fate,” Ranald said.
“Aye.” She felt a pinch of guilt, for her father had not entered her thoughts for quite some time. “Soon I will ken it all,” she murmured, and turned her attention to guiding her pony among the trees.
“Ahead lies your village, Jennet.”
Shifting slightly in the saddle, she turned her gaze from the cluster of thatch-roofed cottages to look up at Hacon, who watched her closely from his mount. Knowing he expected it, she forced a smile.
“My aunt and uncle’s cottage is the farthest, that one with the pair of twisted rowan trees by the door.” Thinking of her aunt, Jennet felt her smile grow more honest. “She believes that since a branch hung o’er the door will protect against demons and witches, then a whole tree will be even more of a guard. ’Tis why another grows near the cowshed. She has been seen protecting her trees from raiders and others, sword in hand. Even a dog risks his life if he eyes one of those trees with interest.” She laughed along with Hacon.
“’Tis verra quiet,” said Ranald a moment later. “Are the villagers still there?”
“They may have seen us and run away to hide.” Observing closely, Jennet realized Ranald was right. It looked empty.
“Theydidsee us,” Hacon said. “A few leagues back they kenned our approach. I espied their sentry in the woods, even caught sight of the laddie sent to warn the village. ’Tis why I slowed our pace. I wanted to ease their fear of attack. I wished no fight to start with your kinsmen.” He looked at Ranald. “Tell the men to keep their swords sheathed and to make no threatening gestures.” When Ranald left to do so, Hacon turned to Jennet. “Ye and I shall lead. Mayhaps one of the people will recognize you and this tense visit will grow more friendly.”
Nodding, she turned her pony toward the village, glancing at the encircling common grazing grounds and idly noting that a protective wall was half constructed around it. Soon the village would be walled in as so many others were. She prayed the defense was born of caution and not the result of some tragedy. None of the cottages appeared to be damaged, not even the poorer earthen-walled ones. As the silence of the village surrounded her, her concern for her kinsmen grew. It was hard to keep her pace slow, not to race to her aunt’s home. Then, suddenly, the priest stepped out of the tiny stone church they neared, two burly, armed men flanking him.
