“Ye can ask but it willnae get ye any answers. Mon who hired us didnae say why he wanted ye dead. Doesnae make no mind to me why he does. Coin was good.”
“Was he tall, fair of hair, somewhat handsome, and with an air of overweening importance?”
“Mighta been. Told ye, the who and the why dinnae matter.”
“Nay sure of that, Mac,” grumbled an extremely filthy man whose belly showed that he had too great a love for food. “He kens who hired us.”
“Weel, he would, wouldnae he,” snapped Mac. “No one wants a mon they dinnae ken murdered, do they? Ye have to ken a mon to be wanting him dead.”
“I dinna ken who ye are and I am already wanting ye dead,” spoke the tall man who stepped up beside Simon.
Simon sighed and glanced at Tormand, who probably thought he was in disguise again. His eyes could not be hidden, however, no matter how thick he grew his beard or what color berry juice he rubbed into his beard and hair. Tormand seemed to suffer Ilsabeth’s difficulty in understanding that there were just some eyes that people did not forget. Beautiful, big blue eyes and mismatched eyes were among them.
“Ye are a wee bit too close to the fire here, friend,” Simon said, and drew his sword.
“I am in disguise,” said Tormand.
“As what?” Simon spared a quick glance at Tormand’s rags. “A beggar?”
“Exactly. No one looks at beggars. So what do these fools want from ye?”
“Ye heard him. My death. I can explain it after they go away.” He looked at the men. “I suggest ye give this up. Take that fool’s money and run. Verra far away.” The men started to have a whispered conversation, although one of them always kept his gaze on Simon, so Simon looked at Tormand again. “My friend, ye can dress in any ridiculous outfit ye like and grow that beard down to your knees but any who look into your face for but one moment will ken who ye are. The eyes, ye fool. No one forgets those eyes.”
“Ah, hell’s teeth. Cannae do anything about them save for squint a lot. Nay sure I would want to do anything about them either. My Morainn is still trying to decide which one she likes better. She stares into them sometimes and tells me it is difficult to ken when they are both so beautiful.” He grinned when Simon groaned. “Heads up. They have come to a decision.”
“We think ye ought to give us some money,” said Mac. “More than the other fellow gave us. Then we can honestly tell the mon that we couldnae do as he asked because ye paid better.”
“He is a marvel, isnae he, Simon?” Tormand laughed.
After a lot of bickering and bartering, the men left, their pockets a little heavier. Tormand continued to occasionally chuckle over the matter as he and Simon made their way to a small tavern. Despite the way the tavern maid eyed Tormand with disgust, Simon was able to get them to a small table tucked far in the corner. As soon as he and Tormand each had a tankard of ale, Simon told him everything he had learned from David.
“Walter made a verra big mistake there,” said Tormand, who grinned at, then winked at, the horrified tavern maid.
Simon needed only one peek at Tormand to know what horrified the woman. “I hope whate’er ye have put on your teeth will come out.” They looked as if they were stained with something vile that was oozing from his gums.
“ ‘Tis naught but some herbal mess Morainn mixed up. It doesnae taste bad. Although, it doesnae go with this ale verra weel.” Tormand set his tankard down and looked at Simon. “So ye are truly going to stay with this until the bitter end.”
“I have to, Tormand.”
Tormand nodded. “I can see it. So could Morainn. She says all will be weel at Lochancorrie. Couldnae tell me if that was because ye took on the land or because whoever the king gifted with a traitor’s goods was a good laird, but she thought ye might like to ken that the future is nay all death and misery for your home.”
Simon thought about it for a moment and nodded. “It is good news. It takes away a worry and that can only be good at this time. Things are beginning to fall into place.”
“Morainn also said that ye will face a great trial and have to make a painful choice, or something akin to that. Mayhap it was that ye make the wrong choice and it is painful.” He shrugged when Simon glared at him. “She wasnae sure, either. Just that there will be something painful for ye when all else is right. I told her a few more specific dreams might be better but she told me to tell ye this one.”
“That is verra vague e’en for Morainn.”
“So I thought but she wouldnae tell me anything else and insisted I come and tell ye that. Good thing I did, too, or ye would have been dead on the road to the king’s court.”
“I could have beaten them.” Simon ignored the mocking sounds Tormand made. “I will think on it for a wee while and mayhap it will make more sense in time.”
“Nay so sure of that. Just why were ye headed to the court again? Now that ye are so close to capturing these traitors and all, I would have thought ye would wish to start avoiding that place again.”
“ ‘Tis hard to abide it, but I must speak to the king as soon as possible if I want any chance of saving Lochancorrie.”
“Go then. I will wait here for you. As soon as ye can, come back and tell me what ye learned and what the king said.”
Simon hesitated for only a moment and then he hurried off to get to the court. He would not stand around waiting to get in to see the king, he told himself, because there was nothing to gain from leaving Tormand wasting time at the tavern while he wasted time in an unanswered bid to see his liege lord. To Simon’s relief, and surprise, he was escorted into the presence of the king only moments after he arrived. He bowed before the man he had sworn his sword to.
