Chapter 16 #3
Henry cursed and shook his head. “I cannae believe how impossible it was to get rid of ye. Ye would think I would have succeeded in but one of my attempts.”
“Ye ken where my other brothers are?” Simon asked Tormand.
“Aye, and they are all healthy. They are also good men although they are swords for hire from time to time.” He glanced at the ones Simon and Gowan’s men had defeated.
“Nay like these fools who dinnae have the sense to ken that they were accepting the coin of a madmon.” Tormand looked back at Henry as if fascinated.
“Ye should have waited to see if they truly did drown. Just curious as to how ye thought to explain that they were all tied.”
“I assumed they would sink to the bottom of that verra deep loch and ne’er trouble me again. But, ye are right. I should have waited about to make certain of it.”
Simon felt an urge to be sick. “They were little more than bairns.”
“They were a threat, as ye were. And the one thing I wanted of ye, ye couldnae even give me that. A son. Nay, I got just another wee, puling girl child. I kenned she would have your eyes and she would be staring at me, judging me, so I rid myself of her as weel.” He smiled coldly at Simon.
“It wasnae hard because she was sickly and I had already had some practice at that with my other children.”
Simon staggered a little and Wallace caught him, steadying him.
The madness in Henry was so clear, so chilling, as he spoke of killing children.
Of killing Simon’s child, his young brothers, their father, and even his own children.
For reasons of his own Henry felt like talking and every word out of his mouth was horrifying.
“Weel, ye failed to rid yourself of your brothers,” Tormand said.
“They havenae been dead all these years, just wise enough to stay so hidden away that ye would think them dead. They may even come and watch your execution so ye may get another chance to see them as ye are made to pay for your treason.”
“Where are my brothers?” demanded Simon, unable to stomach listening to any more of what Henry was spewing out.
“Ye will see them soon. I was but curious as to why this madmon would do such a thing. As ye said, your brothers were just bairns.”
Simon looked at Walter, who stared at Henry as if he had never seen the man before. “Seeing more clearly, Hepbourn? Seeing that ye gave up all ye had for the sake of a madmon?”
“I am nay mad,” Henry said, acting highly insulted. “I am but logical and do what is necessary to stay the laird and keep Lochancorrie safe and the people fed.”
Wallace’s snort of derision told Simon that Henry was seeing only what he wished to.
Simon could not bear to hear any more. He had known that Henry killed easily and that he was one of the most brutal men he had ever met, but the coldness with which he spoke of killing so many of their own blood terrified Simon.
“Time to take him to the king to be judged,” said Gowan as he stepped up to Henry, grabbed his bound arms and yanked him to his feet.
“Do I ken who ye are?” asked Henry. “There is something verra familiar about you.”
“I suspicion I look like my cousin,” Gowan said as he roughly dragged Henry along the rocky ground.
“Your cousin?”
“Aye. She was your first wife’s maid. We were all set to bring her home, kenning that she wasnae happy, that she was afraid.
When we got there all we found was her body after ye were done with her.
E’er since that day my family has sworn to make ye pay despite the fact that they are poor and powerless.
Weel, ye may soon die for other reasons than the rape and murder of a wee lass of barely fifteen, but it will do. Aye, it will do verra fine indeed.”
“Weel, that was interesting,” murmured Tormand as the men that had come with Simon and Gowan began to take the prisoners away.
“He kills like a child who sees a toy he wants and just takes it,” Simon said. “Henry sees what he wants, and if someone stands in the way, he kills them.”
“Aye and that is his madness.”
“And my brothers are alive?”
“Verra much so but it took telling them that Henry was about to meet his much delayed fate to get them to come out of hiding. Ye will see them soon. Best go with the others and take the prisoners to the king.” He nodded toward the small group of men from Lochancorrie who were talking to Wallace.
“Save for them. Gowan didnae think they were any trouble and left them for ye to see to. Let the others who so hastily dropped their swords escape as weel. Good mon, Gowan.”
“A verra good mon,” Simon murmured, “who is eyeing my place as the king’s hound.”
“I heard. Ye willnae be able to do it as ye have been for ye are now a laird. There is a clan and lands that need you.”
“But will the people of Lochancorrie want another from that family of brutes and madmen to rule over them?”
“Ye arenae your father or Henry.”
Simon prayed he was not, but a knot of fear had formed in his belly. He instructed Wallace to take the Lochancorrie men to his home while he went to the king along with the prisoners. Tormand ambled along at his side and Simon knew it was so that he could take Ilsabeth with him when she was free.
That was for the best, he told himself. He was about to turn his brother over to the king, a traitor and a madman.
He had three other brothers who might be untainted but he could not know until he met them.
He had had a child with his brother’s wife and that child had been murdered.
No matter how much Henry deserved his fate, it was going to be Simon who handed him over to it, so he would soon have his own brother’s blood on his hands.
There was so much wrong with him and his family he could not see making any woman accept him, especially the one who had suffered so much from the crimes of his own brother.
He had to let her go, he decided. Had to let her find a man who was not weighted down as he was.
Or a man who might well have the seed of madness in him, a seed that could be given to any child they might have together.
Nor could he make her turn her back on her family, who would undoubtedly hate him for his family’s part in causing them to spend the last few weeks hiding as soldiers ransacked their home.
“Ye have a look on your face, friend, that tells me ye are thinking hard,” said Tormand. “Why do I think that is a verra bad idea?”
“ ‘Tis always best to think things over when one is about to hand one’s mad brother over to the king to be tried, convicted, and executed. I am about to stain my hands with my brother’s blood. And ye are about to take Ilsabeth back to her family where she belongs.”
“Jesu, I kenned I wasnae going to like how ye were thinking.”