“Asswiftly as we can. The glint in that adder’s eyes made me verra uneasy.”
“Buthe said he would honor your right to the booty.”
“Thatmon wouldnae ken what honor was if it grew legs and walked up to spit in hisskinny face. Go on, Margaret, and be verra careful.”
“Shouldnaeye go help her?” asked Ruari after Margaret left.
Sorchalooked at Ruari, wondering how he could speak, yet still maintain his pose ofdeath. It was so good a pose it made her uneasy. “That mon recognized yourworth, sir. ‘Tis best if I dinnae leave ye unguarded,” she replied, keeping aclose watch on the scavengers and trying to talk clearly without moving herlips too much.
“Andye think a wee lass like yourself can stop him from taking whate’er he pleases?”
“Aye.The mon is a stinking coward. As long as he must fight to gain what he wants, Ihold the advantage. I could not, howbeit, regain something once it is taken.So, the wisest, safest plan is to keep a verra tight hold on what I have.”
“Andye think your cousin can do the same?”
“Aye,and verra weel, too. One thing it isnotdifficult to make Margaret understandis when she is in danger, and she has been weel trained to defend herself.”
Ruarihad no opportunity to respond as Margaret returned. He was astonished at thespeed with which she had accomplished her chore, but even more so when he sawthe youth draped over the pony. His young cousin Beatham had disobeyed ordersand joined the battle against the English. Ruari prayed the boy’s wounds werenot severe if only so the rash youth would soon be well enough to bedisciplined. Just as Ruari thought to say something to his errant cousin,Margaret and Sorcha moved him onto the litter. Although the women were gentleand surprisingly strong, pain tore through his battered body, stealing hisability to think. It took all his will just to keep from crying out. Despitehis efforts, a shaky sigh escaped him as they settled him onto the litter.
“Hush,”Sorcha ordered, removing her cloak to spread it over him.
“Heis sweating badly, Cousin,” Margaret whispered.
“Deadmen arenae supposed to sweat.”
“Yehad best cease talking to this dead mon, then,” Ruari said, his voice a hoarseshadow of itself.
“Aye,”agreed Sorcha. “And I had best cover that poor ghastly face of yours.”
Heclosed his eyes even as she tossed the hood of the cloak over his face. Whenthe pony began to move, dragging the litter over the rough ground, his painincreased. It would be easy and undoubtedly advantageous to let the blacknessfluttering at the edges of his mind sweep over him, but he fought it back. Theywere not out of danger yet, and, despite his helplessness, he wished to beaware if it struck.
“Thatmon is walking our way, Sorcha,” Margaret said, looking back. “He appears to beencouraging a few of his companions to join him.”
“Cursethe fool.” Sorcha stopped, turned, and readied her bow, expertly notching it. “Ifear I must remind the dog of his own cowardice.”
“Yearenae going to kill him, are ye?”
“Icannae think of any mon who deserves to die more than that one, but nay, Iwillnae kill him. I will only show him that I can if I wish to.”
Shesmiled faintly and shot her arrow. It pierced the ground at the man’s feet,bringing him to an abrupt halt. He stared at the arrow then at her. When hetook another wary step toward her, she calmly fired a second arrow. Again itlanded directly in front of his feet. He took a few hasty steps back. Hiscompanions immediately deserted him, scurrying back to the far safer task ofstealing from dead men. A moment later, he joined them.
“Doye think he will leave us be now?” asked Margaret.
“Ithink so, but we had best keep a close watch on our backs. Hurry along,Margaret.” As Margaret tugged the pony into its plodding pace, Sorcha followed,but kept a cautionary eye on the scavengers. “We need to place a goodlydistance between this dark place and ourselves. Not only do I wish to be awayfrom those dogs, but we are too close to the English here for my liking. Intruth, I think we may be in England itself.”
“Yedinnae ken where we are?”
“Oh,aye, I do. I just dinnae ken who lays claim to it this year.” Sorcha laughedsoftly as she watched Margaret’s expression waver between fear and confusion. “Dinnaetrouble yourself, Cousin. I may not ken exactly whose lands we stand on, but Iken weel how to get back to Dunweare. We will be home on the morrow. Now, wemust try to reach a safe camping place and tend to the wounds these two foolshave gained in this unending squabble with the English.”
Chapter Two
Ruaricried out, opened his eyes, and saw only blackness. It was a moment before hecould subdue his panic enough to realize he was still beneath Sorcha’s cloak.At some time during the slow, torturous journey he had lost his grip onconsciousness. He felt smothered, and struggled to move his wounded right armenough to tug the covering from his face. His awkwardness made him curse evenas the cloak was pulled from his face. Taking a few deep breaths, Ruari staredinto Sorcha’s rich brown eyes.
“Weare about to camp for the night, sir,” Sorcha said. “As soon as the campsite isreadied, I will see to your wounds.”
“Andthe lad?” he asked.
“Margarethas helped him o’er to a tree. His wounds arenae severe. Once we were out ofsight of the battlefield, he sat up on the pony. We believe he was banged onthe head, fell, and was left behind.”
