As they traveled, others passed them, moving more quickly than they could with both Lia and Hamish on the old horse and Fiona walking. Some latecomers, people Fiona knew and trusted, knew a little more.
“Gura told me she’d heard that someone saw a group of men deliberately set fire to the bridge, then run to the other side of the river before the flames blocked their escape,” said the baker, a woman Fiona dealt with regularly. “Can ye believe that? Lucky they didna burn the bridge all around them, aye, and have to jump in the water to save themselves.”
“Does anyone ken who they were?” Fiona asked.
“Nay, they didna stay to chat, ye ken. And our lads were busy fighting the fire. They formed a bucket line, passing water from the river to put out wee fires the falling embers started on the riverfront until the wind shifted.”
“Why no’ fight the fire on the bridge?”
“I asked the same thing. It had spread too far across the span. Aye, they did try, but it was beyond anything they could control.At least by their work and some miracle, the fire didna spread into the nearby boat-building sheds. We will need that industry to help us recover.”
“I saw merchant ships tied up along the river yesterday,” another woman interjected, “for the coming market day. I wonder if any of them burned.”
The baker shrugged. “I dinna ken. If no’, it could still take place if there’s anyone left in town.”
Fiona nodded. If what the baker heard was true, likely Arabella’s home—her home now—still stood. “Are ye going back?”
“Nay, I’m headed for my cousin’s croft near the bay. I’ll wait there until we ken more.”
“We could go back,” Lia said, relief at the idea that they could go home making her smile.
“Could we?” Hamish shook his head. “Then why are there still more people coming behind us?”
Hamish’s observation sent a chill through Fiona. “We dinna ken who set fire to the bridge,” she said. “If ’tis true the men who did it ran to the other bank, I doubt the town was under attack. But, if there’s an army on the way to finish what they started, Hamish is right. Returning is too great a risk for now.” She gestured around them at the other people still moving away from Inverness. “As much as I want to go back, I must agree with ye that it doesna seem wise to do so. We must go on to Rose. In time, we will learn more about who did this and why.”
A week later,well after the evening meal, Erik Ross heard someone knock on his door. The only person who would bother him this late was his second-in-command, his tanist, Tormod.
“Come,” Erik called out, and set aside the stack of so-far useless documents he’d been reading, left behind by his troublesome predecessor, Donas, and his wife, Silas.
The door opened and Tormod came in. “Someone here to see ye, Laird Ross,” Tormod announced.
At this time of the evening? “We have a visitor from Sutherland,” he concluded, and gestured for a tall, dark-haired man to enter.
“I’m Cameron Sutherland,” the man introduced himself. “I serve as a factor for Laird Sutherland. I’m on my way home from Aberdeen, and would be grateful for yer hospitality so that I can pass the night warm and indoors and get care for my horse.”
“Of course,” Erik told him. He nodded to Tormod, who he was sure had already set others to work making the arrangements.
“I have news ye’ll want to ken,” Sutherland added. “I passed through Inverness three days ago. The Ness river bridge burned a sennight ago, so until ’tis rebuilt, the nearest way across the Ness is by boat or around the Beauly Firth, the way I came.”
“Was it an accident?” Erik gestured him to a seat by the hearth.
“Nay,” Sutherland said as he sat. “Several men were seen setting it and running off the west side of the bridge to escape it.”
Tormod asked, “No one kens who they were or why they did it?”
Sutherland shook his head. “Nay. I heard lots of rumors in a pub, but naught that could be proved. The town survived, but with some damage to buildings near the river.”
Erik asked, “Have ye supped?” and glanced at Tormod.
“Aye, thank ye. Tormod took care of me before bringing me to ye,” Sutherland said, then leaned forward and continued. “I met some merchants from Dingwall headed to Inverness to the big market. Ye’ll also want to ken that they mentioned ’tis saidthat Domhnall is on the move. After I told them what happened to the bridge, they said it sounded like something he’d do, turned around and went home.”
“What is that old dog up to?” Tormod mused.
“’Tis said? No one kens for certain? Why would he burn the bridge and naught else?” It didn’t make sense to Erik, but if true, it meant trouble. Domhnall of the Isles, the chief of Clan MacDonald and head of the western isles, might have burned the bridge across the River Ness to slow movement of any troops Domhnall wanted to control. Which meant the trouble over the Earl of Ross territory was heating up. And that might draw many clans, Erik’s own small sept of Ross included, into the fight.
“He likes to stir up trouble. That, I would believe.”
“Ye have a point.” Erik noted Sutherland’s posture starting to slump. “Thank ye, Cameron. Go to yer rest. We’ll talk more on the morrow before ye leave.”
