“Nay,” she said. Did she lie?
“Ye will be.”
He began to walk away. She snagged his arm. “Wait. How many more men do ye suppose will gather yet?” Laird Robert Stewart, whom they were yet to meet, would have his own army. “How great will be the force that moves to England?”
“Who can say? I heard up there”—he jerked his head toward the standard—“King David himself is to lead the armies.”
“Och, aye?”
The wings of Reagan’s mustache twitched. “’Twill make an impressive sight.”
“We still ha’ a long way to go. I am concerned for my da.”
“Try no’ to be. An army this size will not move very quickly.”
“Aye, but—he tires.”
“At least ’twill be the earl’s business now to feed all this lot.”
When Da returned a goodly amount of time later, he looked worried. Reagan was gone from Katrin’s side by then. She hunkered down beside her father, who had quickly seated himself, and said, “Wha’ is it, Da?”
“We are to wait here till the other western troops arrive and then move on eastward.”
“Aye, so. Let me find ye somewhat to drink.”
Did it surprise her that even here among naught but warriors, and a supposed warrior herself, she took on the role of caretaker? Of looking after not only her da, in truth, but all of them. She ventured off to collar one of the men she saw circling, who proved to be Earl Randolph’s servant, and demanded rations for her father’s men.
He stared at her in surprise when she spoke, having at first glance taken her for just another fighting man.
“Aye—mistress,” he said a bit uncertainly. “We are doin’ the bestwe can to reach everyone.”
“Our men ha’ marched far and are in need o’ drink.”
“There is a stream.” He waved a hand vaguely. “I suggest ye avail yoursel’s o’ it.”
She did, going back for a flask, now empty, and bringing it full to her father, advising all of their men she met to do the same. She made sure Da ate from the last of their own rations, took none for herself. An empty belly was the least of what she would likely endure.
Earl Randolph’s servants did come round eventually, but provisions were pitifully few. Dark fell and a chill crept in with it. They camped where they stood—or, more accurately, sat.
Such a vast force could not possibly be silent. Indeed, as they settled for the night, sound undulated like the sea on the shore back home. Rising and falling. Ashushof being.
When the music began, she could scarce believe her ears. It seemed so small and delicate amid that other sweep of sound. Yet it drew her inexorably.
She rose from her place beside Da, who opened one eye and asked, “Is that the harper? Our harper?”
Our harper.
“I believe so.”
She moved back through Murtray’s troops, only some of whom slept and most of whom sat in clusters. Around Finlay, the cluster was dense. They leaned to him as to one of the fires, for comfort, for enchantment.
He had unwrapped Brada and had her on his knee. Hands caressing the strings, magic in his eyes.
He did not play soft and soothing songs for them now, despite their need for comfort. Nay, for these were bright and jaunty tunes that sprang from his hands, strong and speaking of valiance. Music meant to lift the heart.
Katrin went to her knees beside him. He shot her one glance ofgladness and acknowledgment, and played on.
Ducked down there, so close, she could feel the music spin out with him as its center in an ever-widening circle. Like a wheel turning, carrying both fate and time.
