“I pray to God ye will. I have only one firm plan. I willnae allow my son to die on the gallows” he whispered so that the others would not hear him, and Dugald nodded.
As Lucais continued to direct the men, Jennet made her way toward a rough bench near the door of the cottage in front of which they were crowded. She had only just sat down when Elizabeth and Serilda moved to either side of her. Fleetingly, seeing how concerned the women looked, Jennet wondered just how poorly she must appear to them.
“Mayhaps ye should seek your bed,” suggested Serilda.
“Aye, mayhaps I should. I feel so weary. How could this have happened?”
“I demanded some answer to that same question from one of the Bruce’s men,” Elizabeth said, “when he was done robbing us.”
“Did he give you an answer?” asked Serilda.
“Aye, he did. I got the feeling he knew Sir Hacon, though not well, and had some doubts about his guilt. When he spoke, it was as if he meant to reassure himself of the rightness of his actions.”
“But what possible proof could there be?”
“None, judging by what he said. Not much more than what Sir John read to us, among them that Sir Hacon did not take part in the killing of the ‘traitors’ in Perth.”
Seeing the fearful glance Serilda sent her way, Jennet managed a faint smile. “I learned he was there a short time after he told me he wasnae. I understand why he lied. Some day he will admit it.”
“Aye, I was surprised when he confessed it to me. He is sore troubled by guilt over it,” Serilda murmured.
“So he should be.” Jennet’s weak attempt at humor brought equally weak smiles in return. “Any more, Elizabeth?”
“Well, there was mention of Ranald’s brief confrontation with the Douglas’s men the day Hacon caught ye in Berwick. That should be easily talked away.” Elizabeth hesitated before she added, “You heard the claim that Sir Gillard was scornful of the Bruce’s claim to the throne.”
“Aye, to my everlasting regret.”
“They wereyourwords,” Serilda guessed, putting her arm around Jennet’s slumped shoulders.
“Aye,” Jennet choked out as she fought her tears. “’Tis my careless tongue that has condemned Hacon.”
“Nay, no more than my son’s goodness in not taking a sword to innocents or his good luck in returning from Ireland alive.”
“I was told to watch my words. I finally did, but ’twas not soon enough. I put a dagger in Balreaves’s hand, and he has buried it deep in Hacon’s back.”
“Enough of this!” Serilda cried. “Ye arenae to blame. Sharp words spoken by a woman should ne’er condemn my son, not when he has fought so loyally for ten years or more. If what women said about wars and kings was heeded, then few men would escape the charge of treason. Balreaves is playing upon the fears and mistrust of the court. Weighting yourself with a guilt ye dinnae deserve isnae good for you or the bairn. I will hear no more of such nonsense.”
“Ye may see it as nonsense. Aye, and I might convince myself that I need carry no guilt. Howbeit, when Hacon thinks over the charges and realizes what has been used to blacken his name, will he be so forgiving, so understanding?”
“Aye,” Serilda replied without hesitation.
“I pray you are right, for if we cannae save him, if he goes to the gibbet, I shouldnae wish him thinking I helped to put the noose about his neck.”
“Wewillsave him. That is all ye need think of, all ye must believe.”
Jennet silently vowed that she would do just that. She held a part of Hacon within her womb and did not want to risk losing it. However, she also vowed that she would not sit quietly by and do nothing. Her words had been used to hurt Hacon. It was her duty to mend that hurt.
As she watched Dugald lead a small force of men after Hacon, she decided to wait until some word came back from him. If his news offered no other hope, then she would act. Hacon would not go to his death thinking she had abandoned him.
“Your men are following us. If they try to help you, they will fail.”
Looking up at Sir John Burnett, Hacon felt a brief shiver of alarm. Surely his father would know the folly of trying to rescue him by force. If Lucais had meant to stop his son’s arrest, he would have done so at Dubheilrig, not waited until Burnett stopped to camp. Nor would a rescue be attempted the first night, while they were still on Gillard lands. That would certainly bring the king’s wrath down upon his people. Whatever reason Dugald had for following him, it was not some gallant but mistaken attempt to save him—at least not yet.
“If my men were meaning to free me, ye would be dead by now.”
“My men could easily fight off some traitor’s hirelings.”
Shrugging, Hacon returned to eating oatcakes and sipping wine, a task made difficult by his bound wrists. “If that is what ye wish to believe.” Since he had not been released to eat his first meal, Hacon assumed he was to be kept bound until they reached the king’s court.
