Chapter 16
He thinks I can give him a son.
Simon growled as those words slithered through his mind yet again.
He could not shake free of them or the power they had to make him angry.
Not even reminding himself that Ilsabeth was right, that she was safe where she was, helped him regain the calm he needed to do his work.
Henry could not reach her in her prison cell, he kept telling himself, but himself was not listening too closely.
The fact that Henry had tried to return to the dungeons was enough, however, to make him eager to put an end to his brother’s freedom and traitorous games as soon as possible.
“Here comes Wallace,” said Peter, looking toward the line of trees to their left. “Ye were right about him. He is an excellent tracker.”
“He has always had the skill,” Simon replied. “I think he was born with it.”
“Aye. I had feared we had lost our prey when they had escaped the trap at the dungeons, but this lad will sniff them out.” Peter smiled faintly as he studied Simon. “Calm yourself, Simon. Ye are pacing like a mon awaiting his firstborn. This will be over soon.”
“Ye feel it, too? Feel that the end is close?”
“Aye. I do and verra strongly. The others involved in this plot are being quietly collected up so that their compatriots arenae warned that they have been discovered too quickly and then flee. Although I suspect a few will escape. Cannae help that, and Gowan has our men starting at the top of the list so that we can be sure to bring in the ones who had the most important part in all this. Nay your list, either. Gowan’s list.”
“Gowan had his own list made?” Simon began to wonder if Gowan had his eye on Simon’s place in the king’s household and then decided that he really did not care. “How did Gowan list everyone?”
“By the value of their lands, property, or purse. Our Gowan kens weel what the king is most interested in. Aye, the king wants the traitors, but he also wants the riches he will be confiscating from them. Gowan kens that giving the king the wealthiest of the lot will be enough to satisfy the mon so that we willnae be made to suffer for any who get away. Gowan means to better himself and weel he deserves to. Just nay sure the king will want to lose such a fine captain of his guard.”
“Would ye be willing to work with Gowan?”
“Ye mean when ye move on to became a laird?”
“ ‘Tis a possibility.”
“ ‘Tis more than that. Lochancorrie will be yours after today.”
“Is that a prophecy, old friend?”
“Nay, but ye can take it as one if ye like. ‘Tis time ye left the king’s service. Mon like ye has choices that me and Gowan dinnae and ne’er will have. Ye dinnae have to remain at the king’s beck and call.”
Simon smiled fleetingly. “We are all at his beck and call, Peter. ‘Tis part of him being the king and all.”
“Was that a jest?” Peter met Simon’s narrow-eyed gaze with a grin but quickly grew serious again.
“I ken that ye dinnae like it said, but ye have a great heart. Ye feel things too deeply at times. Naught wrong with that. Wheesht, it has made ye an excellent hunter of the truth and a lot of innocents have been saved and a lot of the guilty duly punished. But, it also means that by doing what ye do, seeing all the rot that ye must see, leaves its mark. If ye have a chance to be a laird, take it and leave the dark work to men like Gowan.”
“And ye?”
“Aye, and me, though I will sorely miss having ye about. Ah, here’s our lad.”
Wallace arrived with Gowan only one step behind him.
Simon studied Gowan closely and decided he was right to think that Gowan had his eye on Simon’s job.
When Simon still felt no qualms about that at all, he also decided that Peter was right.
It was time to leave his post as the king’s hound.
He was tired of the hunt and the ugliness he saw all too often.
“The mon is but a mile away, mayhap less,” said Wallace, pointing toward the trees he had just emerged from.
“The laird and the mon with him paused at a wee burn to water their mounts. I think there may have been an argument for one of them was sent to the ground. Hard. Wee bit of blood on the ground, nay much, so I think it was nay more than a slap or the like.”
“So, Henry hasnae killed his lackey Walter yet,” murmured Simon, “but he is obviously not verra pleased with the mon.”
“Nay,” agreed Wallace, “and nay doubt it was Sir Walter who went down. There was no other sign to tell me there was more fighting and the laird wouldnae let anyone put him on the ground without making the one who did it pay a verra dear price.”
“A verra dear price indeed. Do ye think they are going to make a stand then?”
Wallace nodded. “I do. I circled round and there are a lot of signs showing that men are gathering nay so far ahead of where the laird and Sir Walter stopped. If ye think it wise or helpful, I could draw closer, see how many men the laird has, how the land lies all about where they mean to make a stand. I kenned ye were eager to learn where they were so I thought I had best tell ye that and ask if ye want me to go back and find out anything else.”
“And I will go with him, Sir Simon.”
“Aye, Gowan, I think that would be a good idea.” Simon looked at Wallace. “How long have ye been a soldier for the laird?”
“Nay long, but I can handle a sword weel enough to stay alive until I can run.” Wallace blushed when the others laughed, but their good humor brought a faint smile to his face.
“I was set to farm my wife’s father’s land, wasnae I.
But, for this madness, the laird grabbed every mon who wasnae too old or too lame and yanked them into his army.
I wouldnae be surprised if half the people in Lochancorrie have a knife at their throats, on them or on one of the ones they love. ”
“Which makes for a verra weak army,” said Gowan.
“Aye and nay,” said Simon. “It all depends on how deeply the mon concerned believes Henry can reach those the poor sod loves even though Henry is here, about to face us in battle.”
Wallace nodded. “There are some at Lochancorrie who think the laird has sold his verra soul to the devil and that gives him power.”
“Henry is just a mon. He may be evil, cruel, and all of that, but he is still just a mon. Go with Gowan, Wallace, and see what can be seen. We dinnae want to lead our men in blind. We will wait here until we ken something, e’en if all ye can discern is that some of Henry’s men wait for us just beyond the trees.
My hope is that, since ye have already begun to arrest men, Gowan, the army that could have been mustered will have already begun to shrink.
I dinnae think many men will want to risk being taken up for treason if their laird isnae pushing them into it. ”
“That was my hope, too, Sir Simon,” Gowan said, and then started off toward the line of trees. “Come along, Wallace. Show me this trail.”
“It will be easier to do so if ye would be a bit more careful where ye are putting those big feet of yours,” muttered Wallace as he hurried after Gowan.
Simon could tell by the hint of a smile on Gowan’s face that the man had heard that impertinence but had taken no offense, simply pretended that he had not heard a word.
It was one of the things that made Gowan such an excellent leader of men.
He allowed the men to grumble as men would, and needed to, so long as they continued to do the job they were supposed to.
That understanding and the fact that Gowan did all he could to make certain his men had food, clothing, and the best of weaponry was what kept his men so loyal to him.
Peter was right. If Gowan decided to become the king’s hound instead of just the captain of the king’s guard, he would be missed.
“I was right,” Simon murmured. “Gowan has grown a wee bit more ambitious.”
“ ‘Tis a good ambition,” said Peter. “Gowan wants to marry a lass but her family sits higher at the table than he does. To become the king’s hound would change that.”
“Ah, so ambition has a bonnie face,” said Tormand as he stepped up beside Simon and then grinned at Simon’s surprise.
“How did ye get past the king’s guards?” demanded Simon. “Especially since ye arenae wearing one of your ridiculous disguises.”
“I ken most of these men, dinnae I. And those disguises I wore were verra weel thought out.”
Simon snorted in derision, Peter echoing the sound. “Honestly now, Tormand. Tell me what ye are doing here. Has Morainn had another vision?” he asked quietly, not wanting any of the other men standing around to hear him for what Morainn could do unsettled too many, raising whispers of witches.
“Nay. I am but here to collect my due, get a few answers,” Tormand replied.
“I have been tripping along the edges of all this for weeks. I want to see it ended, if I am allowed, mayhap even take a small part in the ending of it.” He patted the sword hung at his side, a weapon Simon knew could be wielded with awe-inspiring precision by his friend.
“I will leave ye the honor of doing in Henry as ye please but, if ye mean to kill him here, I would like a word with him first.” “Why?”
“Nothing verra important. Just a need to satisfy my curiosity.”
Simon did not believe that for a moment, but he did not press Tormand for more information. “How are the children behaving? I hope Morainn isnae troubled too much by their presence.”
“Nay, the children help her as weel as they can and she enjoys them. After I see the end of this, I will take them with me to collect Ilsabeth. They will be letting her out of prison, aye?”
There was no mistaking the steel behind Tormand’s question, a force that made it more of an order than a question. “I plan to see to that as soon as I present the king with the true traitors and the leaders of the plot.”