“We wait,” he counseled, straining to hear what reception awaited the boy. “You can’t always trust the way a thing looks.”
Dobbie pulled himself up into the open gate and lifted his boat inside when he reached the crannog, shutting the gate behind him with a resoundingthud.
The sounds of laughter assaulted Hall’s sensitive ears, as if the whole compound found his message hugely amusing. It was exactly what he’d expected. Men who’d spent too long thinking of themselves as safe often forgot their own vulnerabilities.
“Mathew,” he called to the minstrel. “Bring me my shield.”
No sense getting caught unprepared, should the inhabitants of the crannog have bows at their disposal.
Inside the fence, a crude ladder slammed up against the side of the building and one lone man climbed up onto the roof. With a deliberate show of contempt, he turned his back and lifted his plaid, baring his arse to the men on the shore to the accompaniment of laughter drifting across the water.
A gesture the Scots had long favored, though it was beyond Hall’s understanding why they’d choose to present such a tempting target. Perhaps it was time a Northman showed them the error of their ways.
“Bridget?”
She waited behind the others, her brother doing his best to block her view of the crude display out on the water.
“Aye?”
“Do you think you could place an arrow temptingly close to our provocative friend there?”
Having seen evidence of her skill when she’d saved his life, he felt more than confident in the next step of his plan.
“Of course I can,” she responded without hesitation.
She disappeared for a few moments, returning with her bow and arrows in hand, making her way to his side.
“Shall I aim for his hairy pink arse?” she asked, a wide grin on her face.
“No need for that. Setting it directly beside him into the thatched roof will do well enough for the warning we want to send.”
Bridget lifted her bow, nocked her arrow, and let fly. The arrow whistled through the air. The men in the crannog saw it coming, and the man on the roof leapt down before it arrived to poke neatly into the thatch beside the spot where he’d stood moments before.
“Well done,” Hall murmured quietly.
A broad smile split her face and she dipped her head in acknowledgment of the compliment.
“I could have put it up his arse, if you’d asked,” she said with a shrug, though her smile remained in place.
“I have no doubt about your ability to have done exactly that,” he assured her while turning to motion Mathew to his side. “Kindle a campfire, lad. Big enough that our friends out there cannot possibly miss the flames.”
As if Bridget had read his mind, she dropped her bow to rip a strip of cloth from the tail of her shift.
“We’re sending them a warmer greeting next time, are we no?” she asked as she wrapped the cloth around an arrow.
“Two, in fact. Can you put the first one completely over the crannog to land harmlessly in the water?”
Her grin broadened and she touched her arrow to the flame, sending the arrow skyward as the fire began to eat its way through the cloth.
Hall cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “Last warning. The next one will be on your roof. And all the ones that follow.”
Bridget readied her next arrow, but he stopped her before she set it on fire.
“Wait. These men are thieves, not fighters. Bravery is not a trait high upon their list.”
Within minutes, the gate swung open and Dobbie reappeared. He dropped his little boat into the water and begin paddling in their direction. When he reached the shore, he climbed from the boat and pulled the scrolls out from under the plaid he wore over his shoulder.
“MacAngus says that you should take your damned scrolls and go as far away from here as you can. He asks only that you leave us in peace.”
