“Aye, my liege,” replied Walter. “He was hiding her beneath his own roof.”
The king leaned forward in his chair and studied Ilsabeth, frowning at her water-stained and worn skirts. “He wasnae keeping her verra weel, was he? What is that on your skirts, woman?”
“I was scrubbing the floor when the soldiers arrived, my liege,” Ilsabeth replied, and watched Gowan nod when the king glanced at him for confirmation.
“No guards? No bonds?”
“Nay, sire,” replied Walter.
“I was asking the lass here, Sir Hepbourn.” The king looked at Ilsabeth. “Weel?”
“No bonds, sire, but MacBean was my guard,” Ilsabeth said.
“I see. And how long have ye been there, living under Sir Simon’s roof?”
“Since three days after I had to run from my home, sire.”
Anger tightened the king’s features. “After ye stuck your dagger in my cousin.”
“Nay, sire. I ne’er even met your cousin. I have no idea how my dagger ended up in him but it soon became clear that I wasnae going to have a chance to find out or defend myself.”
“So I am to believe that ye didnae kill Ian and ye arenae planning to kill me. Ye and your family are all innocent, are they?”
“Aye, sire.”
Walter snorted. “No Armstrong has e’er been innocent.”
Ilsabeth glared at him. “Ye still have all your cattle, dinnae ye?” She heard one of the soldiers snicker, then hastily smother the noise after one glance from the king.
“Weel, I think I must speak to Sir Simon. I must say I am disappointed that he didnae tell me he already had ye in his possession. It makes me wonder what game he is playing and I grow verra weary of games.”
“Sire, all he does is seek the truth,” Ilsabeth said. “My kin asked him to find the truth about the accusations against us. That is all he has been doing.”
“We shall see. Take her and lock her up.”
Ilsabeth fought the urge to try and wrestle free of her guard. It took all of her willpower but she managed to leave the king’s presence with her back straight. That strength waned with every step they took down into the bowels of the castle. She prayed that Simon could help her soon for she was not sure how long she could remain sane in such a desolate place.
Simon tensed with alarm when MacBean and Reid arrived at the little cottage where they were now keeping David. He had told MacBean where it was so that he could be reached in an emergency. The fact that Reid looked as if he had been crying only increased his alarm.
“The soldiers came to the house today,” said Mac-Bean. “Sir Walter Hepbourn brought them and they have taken away Ilsabeth.”
For a moment not a single thought went through Simon’s head. Then fear rushed through his body and he began to move to the door, his speed increasing with every step. He was about to open the door when MacBean and Peter leapt on him, holding him firmly to the floor as he thrashed and cursed them. It took him more minutes than he cared to consider before his fear receded and his mind cleared.
“Let me up,” he demanded.
“Ye arenae going to go racing off to rescue her, are ye?” asked MacBean.
“Nay just yet,” he said and, after Peter and Mac-Bean got off him, he stood up and brushed off his clothes.
“What do ye mean by nay yet?” demanded Peter.
“I mean that I will do all I can to bring the real traitors to the king and get her out of the prison she now sits in,” Simon replied. “But, if there is a trial and it even looks as if she will be marked for execution, I will get her away from here.”
“Fair enough,” said Peter, and moved to pour MacBean an ale and get Reid some cider.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Simon asked MacBean, and listened carefully as MacBean and Reid told him everything they had witnessed.
“Gowan is a good mon,” said Peter.
