“Dugald, ye are my mon and few men would question your honesty. Howbeit, ye ken as weel as I do that your echoing my claim in this willnae carry much weight, not for the accusation we mean to toss out.”
“Weel, Malcolm isnae your mon.”
“Nay, but he is my wife’s kinsmon.” Hacon knew there was a lot more that would lessen the power of Malcolm’s word, but he could not think of a way to say so without possibly insulting the man.
“And”—Malcolm smiled at Hacon—“what his lordship is too good to say is that my word willnae be honored much. I am one of a family weel known as thieves and rogues. They would but say I was paid to lie, or the like.”
“Some of the dead wear Balreaves’s colors,” said Dugald.
“They could be stolen. Or they might have deserted their laird’s service to take up the lives of thieves. They could indeed be his men still, but when they arenae called to arms, they might keep their purses full by emptying others—without Balreaves’s knowledge or permission.” He smiled faintly when Dugald cursed. “This isnae enough, Dugald.”
“Then we have gained nothing at all here.”
“Ah, weel, I shouldnae say that.Ihave proof now. My suspicions have been confirmed.”
“But ye kenned it was that cur Balreaves. We all kenned it.”
“Aye, aye, but now one of his own men has confirmed it. No longer is the dagger in the night held in an unseen hand. I ken exactly who points it. We put a name to the murderer. Now even his own mon has done so. It makes my suspicions truth. Until that was done, I did at times glance in other directions. Ye did as weel, Dugald. But we willnae waver now. We have a name.”
Dugald nodded. “Aye, but if this isnae proof enough, what must we wait for—Balreaves washing his hands in your blood? We could get one of the royal chroniclers to write it all down as it happens and set the king’s seal to it. Then we could hang Balreaves on a gibbet built o’er your grave.”
“Enough, cousin.” Hacon exchanged a grin with Malcolm and draped his arm around Dugald’s broad shoulders. “Balreaves willnae win. Am I not the better mon?”
“Aye, but the better mon has sometimes defeated his enemy onlyafterhe is set beneath the cold clay. His heirs are left to clear his name and seek justice. Ye dinnae even have any heirs yet.”
“Then ye had best keep me above the ground until I can solve that wee problem. Ah, now there is something to cheer you, m’friend.” He pointed to the campfire Ranald had prepared. “Ranald seems to have found some sort of fowl for our meal.”
“Humph, the lad cannae cook. We will be crunching upon cinders if I leave it in his hands,” Dugald muttered as he hurried over to nudge Ranald aside.
Hacon laughed softly and invited Malcolm to share their booty. He looked for Jennet, saw that she was nearly finished tending to his men, and went to sit by the campfire. They had won this battle, but the war with Balreaves was far from over. There had to be a solution. He just needed a chance to find it.
“I sorely miss Elizabeth,” Jennet said as, replete from her meal, she took a drink from Hacon’s wineskin.
“Aye, she is skilled at healing, which, I fear, is why she remains at Dubheilrig. That failure in Ireland left several of my men needing her care. ’Tis why I chose her mon Robert and his brother Donald to be part of the guard left behind.” Accepting the return of his wineskin, he took a long drink. “My men will heal?”
“Oh, aye, I believe so. But we must travel slowly, Hacon. A hard journey can easily turn a small wound into a fatal one.”
“We will move at a snail’s crawl if need be. When the attack came, the one thing that truly enraged me was the thought that some of my men would die within reach of their home.”
“And after they survived so much else,” she murmured, sidling closer to him until he put his arm around her.
“Aye, but that tragedy was avoided and we have your kinsmen to thank.” He smiled at Malcolm. “Ye must come to the wedding.”
“The answer to that honorable invitation must still be nay. We cannae come. Jennet kens the why of it.”
She frowned at Malcolm with widening eyes. “Is that old trouble still plaguing you?”
Malcolm nodded. “’Twould be worth our verra lives to ride much farther than here.”
Suddenly understanding, Hacon cursed. “Ye have gotten on the wrong side of the Douglasses.”
“Aye, we have, and their lands nearly encircle yours. There is no path to Dubheilrig we can safely travel.”
“I could have my men ride with you as escort. The Douglasses have no quarrel with me.”
“But they willnae like ye doing that, and weel ye ken it. ’Twould be a mark against you, and ye cannae afford one, from what I have heard. Nay, best we stay away. Jennet kens that our love and best wishes go with her.”
“Thank ye, Malcolm,” she murmured. “Howbeit, ye should try to mend this breach with the Douglasses. They gain more power each year. ’Tis ne’er wise to have such enemies.”
