“Good.”
“The abbot, however, might have mentioned it.”
Hew growled.
Bloody hell.Loose-lipped monks would be the death of him.Soon all of Scotland would know a warrior of Rivenloch was hiding at Kildunan.And when the king found out, he’d no doubt come running with a betrothal.A betrothal between Hew and some milksop daughter of an English lord.
Hew wanted to punch something.But he’d resist the urge.He didn’t want to alarm the prior.He needed the man’s trust and cooperation.The sooner he could get it, the sooner he could solve the crime.The sooner he could solve the crime, the sooner he could leave this purgatory and find a safer place to hide.Hopefully with his cousin Gellir at Darragh.
So he reduced his temper to a low simmer.“Brother Cathal comes on the morrow, aye?”
“Aye.”
“I’ll want to question him.”
“O’ course.”
As he left to find something to eat, he called back over his shoulder, “And henceforth, I wish to be introduced simply as Hew.”
Since he’d had little to eat all day, Hew treated himself to double portions of supper, ignoring the scowls of scorn from the prior.Afterwards, he borrowed the monastery’s rarely used wooden tub, filling it from the well.Then he coaxed the cook to heat a cauldron of cinnamon-infused water for him to add to the tub.An hour later, he sank into his first decent bath in a fortnight and scrubbed off the cloying scent of incense and the lingering stench of death.
The steaming, fragrant water lulled him to drowsiness.He bathed, dried off, and cracked open the shutters to let in the fresh evening air.Then he fell into bed, asleep almost before his head hit the pallet.
Sometime in the middle of the night, through the gap in the shutters, a shadow falling across the full moon abruptly awakened him.
His eyes flew open.But he lay motionless, listening.
Were those footfalls?
He wrapped his fingers around his axe on the floor beside him and rose without a sound.
Peering between the shutters, he spied a dark figure stealing across the cloister.
Then he mouthed a silent curse.When he’d gone to bed, he’d assumed he was done investigating for the night.It appeared he’d assumed wrong.He needed to find out who the mysterious figure was and what he was up to.But first he had to get dressed.Quickly.
He wrenched his leine over his head and pulled up his trews, cursing as he struggled to tie the points.He shoved his feet into his boots.Finally, whirling his plaid over his shoulders, he crept out of his cell.Thankfully, the moon was bright enough to follow the path of bent grass where the man had trod.It led straight to the monastery gate.
Hew gripped his axe tighter as he cautiously nudged open the unlocked gate.Who else but an outlaw would steal out of a monastery in the middle of the night?
He spotted the figure far in the distance on the westward road.The man had wasted no time fleeing Kildunan.And he was making haste now.Hew’s delay meant the outlaw was not much more than a faraway speck.
But that was good.It was best that Hew keep his distance and make sure the man didn’t know he was being followed.
An hour later, he was still headed west.In the direction of Dunlop Castle.And Hew began to have doubts about the man and his motives.
What if the figure was not a thief, but the physician returning to Dunlop?
What if he’d only arrived in the middle of the night because someone in the monastery had taken ill?
What if his visit hadn’t been for a robbery, but a mission of mercy?
The man crested the grassy hill before the castle.Hew continued his pursuit, staying close to the trees.When he ran out of trees at the clearing, he stopped to watch.
The barbican gates of Dunlop would open for either the physician or a man of God.As Hew expected, the man swiftly disappeared within the castle walls.
Axe-wielding Hew, however, was not likely to be welcomed by the guard.
Sooner or later, if he’d come from monastery, the mysterious visitor would need to return.Likely before dawn.
