“Ifye are not here to rob the dead then what are ye about?”
“Mycousin and I are looking for Sir Dougal Hay, laird of Dunweare.”
“Yewillnae find that brash laddie here. The English took him.”
“Ithought the English lost this battle.”
“Aye,but they managed to drag off a few of our lads as they fled the field.”
Sorchacursed, ignoring the man’s startled look. “Do ye think anyone else on thisbloodied field survives?”
“Theremay be a mon or two, but they willnae be breathing much longer. What theEnglish didnae finish, the thieving swine tiptoeing amongst the bodies will, bethey English or Scot.”
“ShallI wander about and see if I can find another survivor?” asked Margaret.
“Onlyif ye truly wish to, Cousin,” replied Sorcha, resisting the urge to rub herwrist when the man eased his hold on it.
“Nowthat we have seen that this mon still lives, I think I must.”
“Dinnaebe too obvious about what ye are doing and ‘twould be best if ye leave thehorse behind.”
“Howwill I help anyone if I cannae move them?”
“Ifye find a live one, we will consider the problem then.” Sorcha shook her headas she cut loose the man’s purse and added it to her booty. “Try to get thefool to hide. I will need time to think of how we can walk away with this monor anyone else.” She smiled faintly when Margaret whispered a mild curse. “Becareful.” As soon as Margaret left, Sorcha turned back to the wounded knight. “Whoare you?”
“SirRuari Kerr, laird of Gartmhor. I fought with the Douglases.”
“Andthey show their gratitude by leaving ye here to rot. Why didnae the Englishtake ye for ransom?”
“Ifell as the English fled with our men snarling at their heels.” He closed hiseyes. “Once those Sassenach dogs cease to run they will be gathering theirransoms for the men they captured.”
Sorchatensed, a chill seeping through her body. That would not be long for the battlehad taken place on the English side of the Cheviot hills. The English did nothave far to run to be safe enough to tally their losses. She had been a fool tothink her troubles were over simply because her brother’s chosen side had wonthe battle. Of course the English would demand a ransom. It was the only reasonto take the highborn soldiers captive. What the English could not know was thatthey could demand a ransom for Dougal till their tongues fell out, but it wouldgain them nothing. Sir Dougal Hay might be a laird and may have been dressed asfine as the Douglas himself, but he did not have two coins to rub together.
Dougalwas doomed, she thought, her heart heavy with worry and a building grief. Thenshe looked at Sir Ruari Kerr. She recognized the name and the lands he held.Unlike with Dougal, one could trust in the richness of Sir Ruari’s attire.Although she hated to even consider the possibility of holding the handsomeknight for ransom, she could not immediately discard the idea. It could be theonly way to get the coin needed to buy back Dougal’s life.
“Iheard that the Scots captured Hotspur himself,” she said.
“Aye,they did,” he replied, partly opening his eyes to look at her.
“So,willnae the captured Scots be returned to us in trade for him?”
“Onlythose who are asked for. If your brother is weel kenned by the Douglas clan...”
“Heisnae.”
“Thenye shall probably have to buy him back.”
“Andsince the English suffered such a resounding defeat, they will no doubt ask forlarge ransoms in an attempt to salve some of their bruised pride.”
“Aye,they will.”
“Cousin,”Margaret whispered as she hurried up to Sorcha. “I found another mon stillalive, a lad actually.”
“Whereis he?” asked Sorcha.
“Onthe right-hand side of the field, nearly half the distance down ‘twixt here andthe trees at the far end of the field, in a thicket.”
“Aye,I see the thicket. He is in there?”
