“I am nay a rogue,” came a voice from just outside the door to the hall. “I am a married man.”
Simon sighed. “Let him in, MacBean.”
“Tormand!” cried Ilsabeth when the man slipped around MacBean and grinned at them. She tossed aside her sewing and ran over to hug her cousin.
“Ye are looking verra weel, lass,” said Tormand after kissing her on the cheek.
“Thank ye. So are ye. Any new news of my family?”
“Some, and I will tell ye as soon as I have some wine.”
A muttering MacBean soon served them all some wine and then left. Ilsabeth sipped hers as Simon and Tormand drank their wine, idly exchanging pleasantries she had no real interest in. Her concern for her family made her impatient, however. She did not press them but she did begin to tap her foot, unable to quell that outside sign of her growing impatience.
“Easy, lass,” Tormand said, and grinned at her again from where he sat beside her on the settee. “Matters have changed little. Your family still evades capture. ‘Tis said that the king’s soldiers have already ceased to avidly hunt them, waiting for some traitor to tell them where to look. I am here for two reasons. I was asked to see for myself that ye are weel, Two, and to pass on some information from Humfrey. Both requests arrived after I saw Simon yestereve.”
“Two?” Simon frowned. “Why did ye just call her Two? Are ye a twin, Ilsabeth?”
“Nay.” She glared at Tormand, who just laughed, as unaffected by her anger as her brothers always were.
“She used to be named Clara,” Tormand explained. “Cormac’s firstborn was called Ilsabeth but she had the calling and became Sister Beatrice. Elspeth loved the name Ilsabeth so much, however, that she asked the lass here if she would mind taking it on. Afraid we all began to call her Two after that.”
Ilsabeth sighed. “E’en Two is better than Clara.” She could see that Simon was fighting a grin and she glared at him. When that expression of her displeasure had as little effect upon him as it hadupon Tormand, she looked back at her cousin. “What did Humfrey have to say?”
“Aside from complaining that Hepbourn left as soon as he realized ye hadnae been caught and that the mon’s mother is a verra harsh taskmaster, he told me that David is on his way to join up with Hepbourn,” replied Tormand.
“Good,” said Simon. “The mon is most kind to save us all the trouble of hunting him down.”
“We must be sure to thank him for that kindness when we get our hands on him.”
“Ye think David could be useful?” asked Ilsabeth, frowning at the thought of the pale, chinless David being good for much of anything aside from stroking Walter’s vanity. “He isnae a plotter. He but follows Walter about like a faithful wee pup.”
“Exactly,” said Simon, satisfaction heavy in his tone. “He is a follower. Followers can be a weakness one can use against the leader.”
“I am nay sure Walter cares enough for David, or anyone, to risk himself to save the mon.”
“So I think and soon David will be made to see that, too.”
Ilsabeth rubbed her forehead as the pinch of a headache lodged itself there. “I fear I cannae make sense of that. How does that help us?”
Simon suddenly felt like laughing he was so pleased by her utter confusion. Ilsabeth was no plotter. He had begun to see that more clearly with every passing hour in her presence, but the way she acted now only confirmed his opinion. She had a keen wit but not a devious one. He had suspected it when he realized she had barely escaped the trap set for her and might not have done so if her father had not planned for the need of one. Ilsabeth was a complete stranger to deception.
“Hefollows,Two.” He grinned when she glared at him for the use of that name. “Followers are near always weaker than their leader. They often, quite foolishly, believe their leader will help them, keep them safe, and all of that. When they discover their leader is more than ready to cast them to the wolves, their loyalty shatters.”
Shaking free of her bemusement over how handsome Simon looked when he smiled, Ilsabeth said, “Oh. And then they spill out all of their secrets, suddenly verra willing to take their leader down with them.”
“Aye. Or so we hope. At times a follower is so afraid of his leader that, despite the leader showing him that that man cares nothing for his men, nothing will bring the follower to tell me what he knows. This will all depend upon how committed David is to the cause of bringing down the king. I but wonder who they think to replace the king with.”
“I wouldnae be surprised if Walter thought he should be set upon the throne e’en if he isnae the one planning all of this. He ne’er fails to let people ken that he has the blood of the Bruce in his veins.”
“So claims half of Scotland,” muttered Tormand as he poured himself another drink of wine.
Ilsabeth laughed. “True, but I think Walter may actually have a rightful claim although ‘tis but a few wee drops, weel watered down and weak. However, as I told ye, Walter spoke as if another mon was to take the throne.”
“He may just nay wish the burden of it, only the benefits of helping another mon take it. And, since it isnae Walter, then it is someone Walter believes will lift him higher in importance and power, enriching him,” said Simon. “Curse it, I need names. Names will give me the power to proclaim your innocence and get the soldiers away from ye and your family. If we can get our hands on David I just might get some.”
“How do ye plan to get him? It willnae be easy to catch someone at court and spirit him away. If it was, I think ye would already have Walter in your hands, wouldnae ye?”
“Hepbourn is making himself far too noticeable. I dinnae think David will.”
