“Not much closely, verra closely.”
“This English is not an easy language.”
“Ye speak it verra weel, far better than I can speak your language. Who taught it to you?”
“Mygrandmére. She was from Wales.” Gisele lightly touched the amulet she wore.
“That explains the odd lilt to your words. Ye have the hint of the French to your words, but I did puzzle o’er that other note I could hear.” He looked at the ornate medallion she idly stroked. “She gave you that?”
“Oui. She said the entwined circles of silver were formed by her father’s father, or even the father before that. She was not completely sure. The seven garnets mark the seven sons he was blessed with.Grandméresaid it would bring me good fortune.”
“I think it has. Ye have survived a year despite being hunted down by a verra powerful and verra rich clan. There is good fortune many would envy.”
“Then I pray it continues to bless us,” she murmured and closed her eyes, unable to keep them open a moment longer. “If you have any more questions to ask of me, Sir Murray, I fear they must wait until the morrow.”
Nigel laughed softly when she almost immediately fell asleep, then grew solemn as he lightly brushed a dusting of dirt from her soft cheek. She was a strong little woman, enduring a lot, but he was not sure how much more she could tolerate. There was little choice, however. He hated to see her so weary and sore, but he did not wish to see her die, either, and that was the fate awaiting her if the DeVeaux caught up with them. As he closed his eyes and welcomed a much needed sleep, he swore that he would gift her with every comfort as soon as they reached Scotland. He also swore that he would do what her own family seemed incapable of or unwilling to do—free her from the DeVeaux’s blind and unending thirst for revenge.
Seven
“Are you certain this is wise?” Gisele asked as she and Nigel paused on a hillside and looked down on the village below.
She was still sore from their daylong flight from the DeVeaux, one night of rest not enough to fully replenish her strength. Fear also held her back. Her enemies had drawn very close to her and Nigel yesterday. She did not wish to give them another chance to catch her, and entering a busy village seemed to promise to do just that. Gisele was not sure they had any choice, however.
“We need supplies, lass,” Nigel said. “’Tis the wrong time of the year to glean all we need from the land.”
“I know, and in the last few years there has not been much left to glean, anyway. The soldiers take it all.”
Nigel sighed and nodded as he led them down the hill. “The army can be verra greedy. I have seen the men take all a land has to offer, leaving nothing for the poor souls who live there. It is one of the sadder consequences of war.”
“And this country has been scarred by war time and time and time again. It is unending.” She shook her head. “I do not understand why it continues, although men always have a ready answer, speaking boldly of honor, bravery, rightful kings, and on and on. My grandmother once said that men are more easily offended than some withered, old, too pious nun with the bile.”
For one long moment Nigel struggled to look at her sternly. The woman should not speak so insultingly about men. It could cause her a great deal of trouble. Men did not take kindly to such ridicule. Then he laughed, almost able to hear the old woman’s sharp voice.
“Aye, lass,” he said, as he shared a smile with her, “sometimes it does seem exactly like that.” He grew serious as he reined to a halt before the stables at the edge of the village. “’Tis a shame that men tend to kill people when they are in the midst of a dark pout. In my land it becomes a feud that is passed from son to son and becomes a bloody heritage.”
“Did your family suffer from such a tragedy?”
“Almost, but the truth was revealed and the bloodletting ceased.”
Before she could ask him any more he dismounted and moved to speak to the stabler. Gisele felt uneasy, but when Nigel signaled her to dismount she did so without question. She had to trust someone at some time. Nigel seemed to be a good choice to start with. It did make her nervous to leave their horses in the hands of a stranger, however. That could make a swift escape a little difficult.
“Dinnae look so fearful, lass,” Nigel said quietly as he took her by the arm and led her into town. “I cannae promise that we are completely safe, but I dinnae have any feeling that danger lurks around the next corner.”
“You do not smell any enemies?” She tried to walk like a boy but some of the sharp looks she got told her that she might not be succeeding.
“Nay, I dinnae smell anything. Lass, the horses need to be reshod. They may last a day or all the way to Donncoille, my family’s keep in Scotland, but we could also have one of our mounts begin limping but a mile outside of the village.”
“They are that worn?”
“Aye, they are.”
“Then they must be tended to. Lingering here may be dangerous, but trying to flee the DeVeaux on a lame horse would be more so.” She looked around. “It appears to be a prosperous village, as yet unscarred by this newest war, so we should be able to find all we need.” She frowned as he moved toward a tiny bakery. “Do you want me to talk to the merchants?”
“I can speak the language.”
“I know, but you have confessed that you find it difficult to speak it in a way all can understand and that you often find it difficult to catch every word when we speak quickly.”
“All of that is true, but I would feel better if I did it. Ye may look like a lad if one but peeks quickly, but I dinnae think ye will pass a verra close study.” He smiled faintly. “We rough-speaking Scots arenae such a strange sight any longer. Wait here, lass, and dinnae speak to anyone.”
