“Nay. Not one about what is happening now. She did have one in time to make certain that Cormac was ready when the danger came. By the time the soldiers entered Aigballa the only ones left inside were the old and the lame. The soldiers soon decided they were of no use but I fear a few died ere the soldiers gave up trying to get them to help take down their laird. Now the soldiers camp within the walls of Aigballa and word is that, if they arenae driven away soon, t’will be years before Cormac can clean up the mess they will leave behind.”
“I will see that he is recompensed for this. Nothing can bring back the dead, but some payment will help ease the burden of the damages done and make certain no more die as they try to restock their stores. One thing ere ye leave–”
“I am leaving, am I?”
“Aye. Too many grow curious about the shadow I speak to. Ilsabeth has two children.” “Nay, she doesnae. She is a maid.” “Foundlings, ye fool.”
“Bad time for her to take them in, but I cannae fault her for that.”
“Nay, and I dinnae. Howbeit, she has made me swear that, if she cannae care for them, I will see them safely to your family.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. That is if Old Bega will let them go.”
“Ye would let them stay with you?”
“Dinnae sound so surprised. I like children. I particularly like these children. And Old Bega has already clasped them close to her heart. I just wanted to be certain there was a place for them nay matter what happens. Now, go, because a few people have grown brave enough to draw nearer and your disguise wouldnae fool anyone.”
A moment later, Simon knew he was alone. He walked out of the shadows and made his way toward Sir Hepbourn. It was past time to have a talk with the man. If luck was with him, he might just get the fool to say something that would help show Simon which way to look next for the truth he sought. The way people around Hepbourn slowly stepped back as Simon approached was a little amusing. His reputation as the king’s man, or the king’s hound as some called him, made many people nervous.
“So, Sir Simon, the king has set ye on the trail of the traitors, has he?” asked Sir Hepbourn.
“He has,” Simon replied, thinking that the man was cleverly bold to bring the matter up so quickly, or innocent. Simon’s instinct told him it was the former. “I but wondered if ye had an opinion on where your lady might have fled. As the mon who was to be her husband, I thought ye may ken a secret or two that would help us find her.”
“Ah, weel, I assumed she was hiding with the rest of her clan.”
“Did ye. One shouldnae assume anything about a lass who would stab a mon in the heart and plot against the king.” The flare of anger in Hepbourn’s eyes pleased Simon. “Ye must have spent some time at Aigballa.”
“I did indeed.” Sending a brief, sad smile to the people nearest them, Hepbourn sighed. “A secretive lot they are. I thought that their reluctance to fully embrace me as a new member of their clan, as the mon who would soon claim the laird’s own daughter as his wife, was odd. Now I ken that they didnae wish to risk the chance that I might uncover their plots or any of their bolt-holes.”
“Mayhap such confidences would have come later, once ye were truly the lass’s husband.”
“Mayhap. Yet, Ilsabeth is one and twenty, far past marrying age. Ye would think her father would have welcomed a husband for her with open arms, especially one of my standing. But, I often got the feeling Sir Cormac watched me as if he feared I was about to rob him blind.” He laughed and shook his head. And mayhap Sir Cormac sensed that ye were a threat to not only his daughter but his whole clan, Simon thought. “Did ye ken that the king’s own cousin was in the area, a lad he was verra fond of?”
“Nay. He ne’er approached me, nay e’en for a bed to sleep in for the night. I assumed that he was there to watch the Armstrongs, that he had some idea that they were a threat to our king, and that is why the poor mon was murdered and left in a field of thistles to rot.”
“Assumptions again. Dangerous things, assumptions.”
Simon asked a few more questions and then walked away, ignoring the sudden flurry of whispers that erupted behind him. He needed to leave the court and think hard on his conversation with Hepbourn. Every word the man had uttered had carried the taint of falsehood. Hepbourn was clever, however, never saying anything that could draw suspicion to him yet constantly strengthening the suspicions that had sent the Armstrongs into hiding.
What kept Simon’s interest in the man keen, however, was the utter lack of doubt the man showed about Ilsabeth’s guilt. The man had courted her for months, become betrothed to her, yet he had never once expressed disbelief that the woman he had meant to wed would kill a man and plot to kill the king. Nor did Hepbourn make even the slightest attempt to seek the truth himself, if only to ease his own humiliation or to gain some revenge for being made to look the fool. The way Hepbourn was acting was wrong and it made Simon more certain, with every word the fool spoke, that Hepbourn was a very guilty man. It would take time, and luck, to prove exactly what the man was guilty of.
Children’s laughter greeted Simon as he entered his home and the sound caused a strange pang in his heart. The laughter belonged, he thought as a somewhat tousled MacBean arrived to take his cloak and gloves. Simon stepped into his hall to find Ilsabeth and the children wrestling together on the floor, Bonegnasher occasionally hurling its furry body into the melee. The cat was curled up in a chair safely out of the way.
“Si–mon!” called Elen when she saw him, and immediately ran to him.
Simon caught the child up in his arms. She put her small arms around his neck and hugged him. It felt good, he thought. It was a welcome home any man would enjoy. He realized he had quickly come to like arriving home to his three guests and that worried him. Simon knew that he was seeing what his life could be like with a family of his own and the lack of it would hit him hard when Ilsabeth and the children were gone. He was going to have to try harder to hold himself away from them, to continue to simply seek the truth and not fall into some impossible dream of hearth and home.
Ilsabeth stood up and smoothed out her skirts all the while keeping a close watch on Simon. When Elen had rushed to greet him, Ilsabeth had seen those cold gray eyes soften. Something very like a smile had touched Simon’s mouth. Then his expression had hardened again, as if he had suddenly realized what he was doing and retreated into the cold tool of justice he so tried to be.
She knew there was more to him, however. He might keep his distance but he was good to the children. He had not sent her to the king to sit in a damp, filthy dungeon while he searched for the truth and the real traitors. It was that part of him that he tried so hard to keep hidden that she wanted; it was that man who had her feeling things she had never felt before, wanting things she had never really wanted before. Ilsabeth was determined to get Simon to stop burying that man under the ice.
“We need to speak privately,” he said as he set Elen down only to have the child hug his leg.
“After the evening meal and the children are put to bed then,” said Ilsabeth.
“Agreed.”
