“May I see it?” Helen asked.
“Of course,” she replied, trying to wrestle it from the baby’s gummy grasp. When he started to argue the way that babies do, she distracted him from whining by putting him down on the ground. He took off exploring right away. The room was sparsely furnished—so not much for him to get into—but she kept a close eye on the fireplace.
With one eye on her son, Helen marveled at the design.
“I read once about the Romans giving armbands to their soldiers for military distinctions,” Elizabeth said. “It has always reminded me of that.”
Something in Helen’s gaze sparked. “It does! I’ve heard of those as well. Armilla, I believe they were called. Hmm...”
Elizabeth would have followed up on that hmm, but Helen handed the bracelet back to her at the same time as she darted forward to cut off Willie’s path to—of course—the fireplace.
“What is it about babies that makes them see danger and head right for it?” Elizabeth said with a shake of the head while Lady Helen gently admonished her son.
“I don’t know,” Lady Helen answered. “But not all of them outgrow it. My husband, for one.”
Lady Elizabeth laughed, but she sobered when Helen turned from the window where she’d moved over to point out things to distract Willie.
“What is it?” she asked.
The healer’s relief was visible. Until that moment, Elizabeth hadn’t realized how anxious she was. “They’re back.”
7
THOM HANDEDSIRDavid Lindsay the sword. The important knight, and one of Bruce’s closest companions, held it out in front of him to examine. He turned it over in his hand, sliced through the air a few times, and looked at every angle of the handle as if he were searching for something, while making short exclamations along the way.
“Bloody hell, MacGowan, how did you do this so quickly? It feels like an entirely new sword. The balance is incredible, and the handle feels as if it was made for my hand.”
Thom shrugged. “If I’d had a pair of fullers I could have fixed the blood groove. It could use a little more taken out near the tip to lighten it. But the English armorer wasn’t thoughtful enough to leave all his tools behind.”
The castle forge appeared to have been hastily abandoned after Douglas had taken Roxburgh. Thom had decided to make use of it when he wasn’t attending to his duties for Carrick. God knew, he wasn’t sleeping; he might as well make some extra coin in those wakeful hours.
He had nothing to feel guilty about. But damn it, seeing Elizabeth’s pale, anxious face from across the Hall or courtyard the past couple of days had eaten away at his resolve. Indeed, he’d skipped the midday meal today as much to finish the sword as to avoid seeing her.
Not that it helped. He could still see those big doe eyes right in front of him as she’d looked up at him and pleaded with him to help her.
The pull to go to her aid was so strong it physically hurt not to do so. His chest had been aching for two days.
He cursed inwardly and turned his attention back to Lindsay, who paid him the coin they’d agreed upon and thanked him. “I could send a few more men your way, if you think you’ll have time. I know many of us have had a difficult time finding a good smith with as much time as we spend sleeping on heather.” Thom stiffened. Not noticing, Lindsay laughed. “It seems of late that the only time we are in a castle, it is to destroy it.”
Us, the men who fight, andyou, the men who serve. Thom knew the knight didn’t mean anything by it, but it still reverberated. He wasn’t one of them, and maybe he was a fool to try to change that. Damn it, what did he have to do? For three years he’d been killing himself to become one of “us,” and all he had to do was pick up a hammer and once again he was “you.”
But he had to admit there was something about being back in a forge that was oddly comforting. He felt more at home in this unfamiliar building than he had in any of the places he’d stayed in the past three years.
He’d been back to Douglas only once since he left, and it had been horrible. Although it had been good to see Johnny, the short time he’d spent with his father had been awkward, uncomfortable, and filled with pain on both sides. It was as if neither of them knew what to say to one another anymore. His father thought Thom was ashamed of his background, and Thom didn’t know how to explain what drove him to try to do more. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could explain it to himself. But it was the same thing that drove him when climbing. He liked the element of danger and pushing himself to the extreme. He wanted to see how far he could go.
“I wish I could,” he said truthfully. He needed the money. “But I’m leaving in the morning.”
The additional men had arrived earlier this afternoon and Edward Bruce had given him leave to return to Rutherford to escort Lady Marjorie to Yorkshire. Unfortunately, the escort would be small, as Carrick could only afford to spare a few men. The earl and the rest of his army would be leaving at the end of the week to begin the siege at Stirling Castle.
Out of habit rather than necessity, as the forge would undoubtedly be destroyed by the end of the week, Thom cleaned out the ash and replaced the tools after Lindsay had departed. It was dusk by the time he closed the door of the forge behind him and crossed the yard to the barracks. He was filthy, and despite the chill in the air, he was going to head down to the river to bathe before finding something to eat and trying to get some sleep. He had a long day ahead of him in the saddle tomorrow.
With a grimace, he was about to open the door to the barracks when the sound of a party of horsemen riding through the gate drew his attention.
He recognized Douglas in the lead, as well as a handful of the men who accompanied him. Thom had crossed paths with Boyd, MacKay, Sutherland, MacRuairi, and MacLeod a few times in the past three years; Elizabeth hadn’t exaggerated: the warriors who’d accompanied Douglas were among the best of Bruce’s army. He frowned as something struck him. Both Boyd and MacRuairi were reputed to be members of the king’s secret “Phantoms.” If there was any truth to it, he wouldn’t be surprised that these other men were as well.
Was Douglas?
The very idea of his former friend being a part of something so illustrious grated. But it made sense. Too much damned sense. Whatever Thom’s personal feelings, he could not fault Douglas’s skills as a warrior.
