Father Luggan clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know you meant to help, but it may be a terrible deed you have done today, Peyton.’
‘It was a fair fight. He is a raper. He got what he deserved.’
‘Was a raper. I’m afraid he has passed to God.’
‘Or the Devil, I hope.’
‘Aye, well, it was brave of you to save that lass’s virtue, and quite possibly her life, but you have put your own life in the gravest of danger, your clan too. That young man lying bloodied and torn over there is Edmund Harclaw, son of Sir Henry Harclaw.’
‘And who might he be?’
‘A big man in the King’s eyes, and ruthless, with it. There were rumours in Edinburgh when I was last there. They say the King is dissatisfied with the Warden.’
‘That is no surprise. Sir Walder Moffat is a lazy slug of a man.’
‘Aye, well, Sir Henry Harclaw was sent north to kick him up the backside or replace him, whichever works in the King’s favour. Of course, this could be idle gossip.’
‘And where did you hear it?’
‘In a certain tavern from a servant of Sir Walder’s who was not best fond of him. Folk have a way of telling priests what they will not tell others.’
Peyton walked over to the corpse. Edmund Harclaw’s eyes gazed blankly at the sky. ‘What else do you know of Sir Henry and his son?’
‘Not much. No one was keen to talk of Sir Henry. I believe he commands loyalty through fear. Those men are the worst kind. When I left Edinburgh, Sir Walder had taken to his bed with some malady or other, most probably, a surfeit of whisky and gluttony had overtaken him again. He is not keeping an eye on the Marches as he should. But that is not the point. You have just killed the son of a powerful man.’
‘Perhaps you are mistaken, Father? One arrogant young Englishman looks much like another.’
‘No. I wish I was. The servant pointed him out to me, and Edmund Harclaw was hard to miss. See that crescent scar on his forehead. I remember thinking that even the worst of scars could not diminish the beauty of that face. And look. He wears a ring bearing the Harclaw crest. His father has one the same.’
Peyton stared down at the corpse. The handsome face was slack in death, mouth gaping, eyes glazed and unblinking. All the young man’s power and privilege were wiped out.
‘Peyton, by killing Sir Henry’s son, you have put every soul in Fellscarp in jeopardy. Sir Henry will raze it to the ground if this ever comes out.’
‘Then what am I to do? That lass saw it all, and I told her my name. What if she talks? This Edmund Harclaw was her lover.’
‘If she mourns him, aye, she might talk. So you cannot let her go.’
‘I doubt she’ll mourn him, given what he did to her.’
‘Women are fickle.’ Father Luggan grabbed his forearm in a grip of iron. ‘Peyton, hear me. You cannot let her say anything. Many souls depend on her silence.’
Peyton took a step back from Father Luggan. ‘I cannot murder an innocent lass. She was the victim of this English dog.’
‘Good God, man. I am not suggesting that. But you cannot let her go home in that state. She knows your name. Her family will ask questions, and she will tell them what occurred. Take her to Fellscarp and keep her safe until you work out a plan.
Suddenly, the air was rent with shrieking again. The lass had risen to her feet and come over to them.
‘He’s dead.’ She pointed a finger at Peyton. ‘You killed him. Oh my God.’
Suddenly, strangling the lass with his bare hands seemed rather appealing. Instead, he said to Father Luggan, ‘You are right. Best I take her with me and find a way out of this mess. But you cannot come with me, Father.’
‘Why not? You cannot manage the lass on your own.’
‘I have done murder this day, and you must stay well clear of it. I am in this now, but not you, Father. Get on your horse and ride away as if the Devil himself is on your heels.’
Father Luggan would not go easily and insisted he must stay and help. Peyton glanced at the lass. How could something so delicate and vulnerable bring death down on his head and put everything he ever cared about in jeopardy?
Chapter Five.
