The boy ran back to the trees and tugged a tiny girl out from behind one. As the pair walked toward Ilsabeth’s small fire, she studied them closely. It was clear to see where most of what little food the boy had found went. The little girl wore ragged clothes but there was only the faintest hint of hunger’s sharpness in her angelic face. Thick redgold curls and big brown eyes were enough to melt the hardest heart. Ilsabeth hoped Sir Simon did not prove her wrong about that for, unless the boy told her they both had kinsmen somewhere, these children were now hers.
“Your names?” she asked as she handed each of them some bread and cheese.
“I am Reid Burns and this is my sister Elen,” the boy said as he helped the little girl eat her food, breaking it into pieces small enough for her to handle.
“And why is it that ye are wandering about here in the wood, and ye have near starved, Reid?”
“Our mither died and the mon she lived with tossed us out of the wee cottage he had given us. He said that he only let us stay there because my mither was warming his bed, but now that she was gone, he needed the cottage for his new lady.”
There was a man who sorely needed a beating, Ilsabeth thought. “So neither of ye are his bairns?”
“Och, aye. Elen is his, but the mon has a wife and eight children so he didnae need Elen. I suspicion he didnae want his wife to learn that he was breeding with another woman.” He blushed and cast her a nervous look. “Pardon, Sister.”
Ilsabeth waved away his apology. “Ne’er apologize for the truth, nay matter how blunt and ugly it is. Who is this heartless swine who would toss aside his own bairn?”
“Donald Chisholm.”
If she survived the trouble she was in, Ilsabeth swore that she would see to it that Donald Chisholm got a hard lesson in how a man should behave. She also decided the man was a complete fool to toss aside such children as she watched them both eat with a delicacy that belied their terrible hunger and revealed that their mother had not been some poor shepherd’s daughter. The way Reid cared for his young sister brought tears so close to falling that her eyes stung and her nose filled so that she was forced to sniff a little.
“This was verra kind of ye, Sister,” said Reid, watching Ilsabeth warily, his dark eyes holding the panicked look that men always got when they thought a woman was close to tears.
“Hold old are ye, Reid?” Ilsabeth bit back a smile at how relieved the boy looked when she spoke calmly, indicating that her urge to cry had vanished.
“Seven. Weel, nearly seven. Elen marked two years but yestereve.”
“Greetings, Reid and Elen. I am Ilsabeth Armstrong.” She waited patiently while he considered her words and was not surprised when he frowned.
“ ‘Tis an odd name for a nun.” His eyes widened and he blushed. “But, ye ken, I havenae had much learning and all, so I wouldnae ken the way of it and all. I am certain ‘tis a good, holy name and all. I just havenae heard it before.”
Ilsabeth took a deep breath and decided the truth was the only path to follow now. “I am nay surprised for I am nay truly a nun. This is but a guise I wear to keep me safe as I travel to ask the aid of a mon. ‘Tis also a disguise to keep me safe from my enemies. My dagger was found buried in the heart of a king’s mon. I didnae put it there and I ken weel who did, but I was snared tight in his trap ere I even kenned it was set.”
“Ye have no kin to help ye?”
“They are already being confronted by men demanding that they surrender me to them so that I can be brought before the king for punishment. One of my cousins caught me fleeing to my home ere I ran straight into the arms of those men. He gave me this nun’s clothing, supplies, and this pony and told me to hie to Sir Simon Innes and ask for his aid in proving who really killed that mon. That is where I go now. In all truth, I am at the end of my journey and but sit here gathering the courage to go and rap upon the mon’s door.”
She could tell by the resigned look upon the boy’s face that he had cherished the hope that she could aid him and his sister. Her tale had clearly killed that hope. The voice of good sense reminded Ilsabeth yet again that she was running and hiding for her life, that it was a very poor time to take two foundlings under her wing. She ignored it. She let her heart lead her. Nothing could change her decision to care for these children.
“I but tell ye this, Reid, so that ye ken weel what trouble ye will face if ye decide to stay with me,” she said.
“Ye would take us with ye?”
“I cannae leave ye here, alone and struggling to find enough food to hold back starvation, now can I?” Ilsabeth bit back a smile when his child’s face tightened with a very stern look and he straightened up, stung pride stiffening his backbone.
“I can care for us,” he said in a surprisingly fierce voice.
“Aye, ye can, and ye have proven that, but wouldnae ye like a roof o’er your head, clean warm clothing, a wee bed, and food when ye need it?”
“Ye think Sir Innes will allow us all into his home? ‘Tis said that he is a mon with a cold heart, a mon who believes only in justice.”
“Is that what is said of him? Ye came from this village then, did ye?”
“Aye. I wasnae sure where else to go once we were shut out, so I stayed close to the village.”
Ilsabeth hoped part of the reason the boy lingered in the area was because there were some people kindhearted enough to give the children what scraps of food they could spare. “We shall go to Sir Simon’s home. If he is too cold of heart to help me and take us all in, then we shall go and find another who will. My Armstrong kin may have had to flee and hide, but I have other kin. The Murrays havenae all taken to the hills. I didnae want to bring my trouble to their doors, but I will bring ye to them. They willnae turn ye away.”
The boy stared at her for a moment and then smiled. Ilsabeth could see the beauty of the boy beneath the dirt and ravages of hunger. It was a smile she had to return and she vowed to herself that she would find these children a haven. If Simon Innes was too hard and callous to aid her, if only in helping the children, she would see them safely into the hands of her Murray kin.
A little voice warned her that she could be walking into danger if she tried to do that, but she silenced it. If Sir Simon refused to help her or even just the children, then she would have no other choice. Ilsabeth did not wish to face the danger seeking her out at home, however, so she silently prayed that Sir Simon Innes was not simply the cold seeker of justice that rumor named him. Unless, she thought with a faint smile, that included seeking a little justice on a certain swine named Donald Chisholm.
