“Banish that thought, lad,” MacNear said, shaking his head. “It’ll do ye nay good.”
“But what if it’s true?” Kyle pressed, imagining the sound of her voice and the scent of her hair.
“Even if it is,” MacNear said, “It’s nay important anymore.”
“Hm,” Kyle mumbled, looking down into his cup. “I wonder where she is.”
“Riders at the gate,” Domnal said, bursting into the hall. The wind and the rain again roared in volume as he thrust open the door.
“Riders?” Kyle asked, turning around. “In this?” He bobbed his head to the torrent of weather.
“They’re English,” Domnal said. “One in full armor.”
“These damned English,” MacNear spat. “They think they can ride all around our country now.”
“Send them here,” Kyle said, slowly getting to his feet. He felt the great spike in his intoxication as he began to move and steadied himself against the table. “And rouse me brither.”
“Aye,” MacNear said. “Gavin should be here.”
“Right away,” Domnal said, bowing his head and leaving the doors open. He went back out into the yard.
“What could they want?” Kyle asked, looking to MacNear.
“We shall soon see,” MacNear answered, pulling his cloak aside to expose his long dagger on his hip. “But I shall nay take a chance.”
“Nor I,” Kyle growled, his anger with everything around Laila quickly being projected upon these mystery Englishmen.
The two of them looked out at the storm raging the yard in the darkness of the night and waited as they saw the two figures ride up from the gate and enter the stables. One was, in fact, wearing full armor, and the rain made a distinct pattering sound against the steel pauldrons. Kyle saw MacNear shiver.
“That’s English heavy horse,” MacNear snarled, “if I ever saw one. And I’ve seen plenty o’ them.”
They listened to the pelting of rain and the whipping of wind as they waited for the men to emerge from the stables, feeling tense with anticipation of the unknown. Gavin appeared in his night robes with a large fur cloak thrown over in haste, stepping in from the rain and cursing about the weather.
“The devil is so important ye got me out o’ bed? Ella is as pregnant as can be, have ye forgotten? Shame on ye!”
“English riders,” Kyle said, his voice low and strong.
“In this?” Gavin asked incredulously. “At this hour?”
“Heavy horse,” MacNear said sternly.
“Heavy horse?” Gavin asked, slowing his temper a bit. He crossed to the table and took a cup, filling up a dram and drinking it down, waking himself up a bit more. “Where are they?”
“In the stables,” Kyle said, still looking ahead into the yard. “There they are.”
The two men emerged from the stables and began crossing the yard in the rugged weather. The shorter one wore mail and a tabard, while the taller was adorned in full armor, with his helmet tucked beneath his arm. They both wore fearsome English swords and had the look of proven warriors, which only made Kyle more tense.
They ducked into the hall from the rain, water running down their temples and soaking their hair, and the first thing that Kyle noticed upon their entry was how similar they looked, much like Gavin and himself. They were brothers, and before Kyle could open his mouth, Gavin exclaimed:
“Well! Little Jacob Willby. And ye must be Matthew.”
“My Laird,” Matthew said, bowing as deep as he could in the stiff steel armor. “Thank you for receiving us.”
“Ye know these men?” MacNear asked, gesturing in surprise.
“We do some trade,” Gavin said, his hands dropping to his side. “But what the devil are ye doin’ here, at this hour, in this weather?” As he spoke, Domnal returned, drawing shut the doors to the hall behind him. Finally, the roar of the weather in the yard was dampened once more.
“We have not much time,” Matthew said, “So I must be blunt.”
