Chapter 5 #3
An hour later, after a meeting so brief that they’d remained standing, Dev said to Wat as they and their men rode away from Hawick, “I heeded all that you said to Archie. But I still don’t know how you persuaded him. I was sure he’d say no.”
“It helps to know your adversary, and I know him well,” Wat said. “Like most bad leaders, Archie thinks first of his interest and only then of his men’s or his clan’s needs.”
“Even so, he often goes contrary to what anyone else suggests. Is that why you brought my father into it, to explain that it was his idea?”
“Partly,” Wat said. “But recall that Archie needs my lads at Hermitage, a fact of which I reminded him when I said I’d send the captain of my fighting tail with them.
When Archie said you could lead them instead, that’s when I told him that your father had suggested you as the proper person to take charge of Coklaw. I spoke rather doubtfully…”
“So he might think you opposed that notion, yourself,” Dev said when Wat paused. “I see. I thought you were just echoing my own doubtful view of the matter.”
“Blethers,” Wat said flatly as they approached the Slitrig Water ford and drew rein.
“Archie did not hesitate to command you to take charge as warden. Moreover, you are the best choice, Dev. We know that Robina will refuse to move, and Archie knows he cannot order her to go. He also knows that, by assisting him with his decision, I have accepted a stake in the outcome. So, don’t let me down, my lad, or I’ll cut out your liver. ”
“So encouraging,” Dev said with a grimace.
“I’m glad the rain has eased, because I’ll be spending my nights either with the men in the lower hall or, more likely, out in the stable until the lady Rosalie can come to us.
You need not fear for Robina’s virtue, I promise you, even if her dragons, the Greenlaws, should disappear. ”
“I’ll see that Rosalie arrives soon,” Wat promised. “In a day or two if the rain stops. That gives you time to warn Robby that she’s coming. In troth, though, I think I have more confidence in you than you do. Just be yourself, Devil, and don’t count the cost.”
They parted then, and Wat turned westward with his men toward Branxholm.
Dev didn’t lack confidence. He knew he could run Coklaw. He just hoped he could find a way to live peacefully with Robby… before she murdered him in his sleep.
Fetching Rab’s oilskin, her warm cloak, and a sturdy cloth sack, Robina put on her stoutest boots, donned her cloak and the oilskin, and went out into the yard. Although the drizzle continued, she could trust the oilskin to keep most of her dry.
Fearing she had little time before Benjy awoke and looked for her, she found Ratch and asked him to fetch her a shovel, a small pail, and a spade.
“Sakes, mistress, what d’ye want wi’ such t’day?”
“We are planting a tree for Master Rab on that rise southeast of here, and I want to see how much damage the rain has done to our hole. Benjy would finish the job today, but I want him well before he comes outside again, so I’d like to tell him that all is well.
In troth, though, I fear the rain will have filled our hole up again.
If it has, I must dig out what I can and protect it better, lest we get more rain. ”
“Sakes, mistress, show me what ye need, and I’ll send a pair o’ lads to do it.”
“I cannot allow that, Ratch,” Robina said. “Sithee, the graveyard is too distant for Benjy to visit by himself, so we decided to plant a tree nearby to make Rab seem nearer, but we want to plant it ourselves. Just fetch me the tools. I shan’t be long.”
He nodded and, in minutes, she was listening to him shut the gate behind her.
As she had expected, rainwater filled the hole and had washed dirt and debris from her pile in with it. The damage was not as bad as she had feared it might be, though.
Kneeling on part of Rab’s oilskin and arranging the rest to keep the drizzle off her, she used the pail to scoop as much rainwater and soupy muck out of the hole as she could. Then, she spaded out the heavier mud until she reached her layer of pebbles.
The rain-washed air smelled crisp and bracing, so she took her time and was glad to be outside after days of confinement.
In the end, she used her fingers to free the jar.
When at last she wriggled a hand under its bottom end, its weight surprised her.
The mud was reluctant to release it, but at last, with a sucking sound, it let go.
Only then did she see that the jar’s cap was tightly wired in place.
“Beany, don’t let anyone else see that until you discover what’s in it.”
“I know,” she murmured. “I just wonder how I’ll get that lid off.”
“Don’t use your dirk, and be careful. That wire looked rusty.”
The drizzle allowed her to wash off most of the muck, but nothing about the jar suggested what its contents might be.
Slipping it into the cloth bag and carrying it under her oilskin to the nearby shrubbery, she set it under some overhanging hawthorn, where no one on the wall could see it.
Then she dragged dead branches from the thicket to the hole, piling them there and hoping they’d keep dirt from filling it again before the rain stopped.
She was trying to decide if she’d done enough when her eye caught movement to the west. Turning sharply, she saw riders approaching, eight or more.
One of the leaders carried a banner. It was rain-soaked and wrapped round its pole, but she suspected that Dev was returning.
“Is it not just like the man, to return when I least want him,” she muttered as she dropped the few branches she still carried, bent down, and scooped up the jar in its sack.
Tucking it inside her cloak, under her left arm, she gripped the oilskin closed with her right hand.
Then she strode to the gate, shouting as she went for someone to open it.
When Ratch obeyed the shout, she said as she passed him, “Prithee, have someone fetch those tools for me. Riders are coming, and I must not greet them as I am.”
“I believe ye,” Ratch said, his eyes atwinkle. “Ye look like ye rolled in the mud.”
Smiling but saying no more, she hurried inside, hoping that if it was Dev, he would not dare to confront her in her bedchamber again. Not until she had hidden the jar.