Chapter Six #2
The woman gave her a quick nod and approached the bed where Seema rested. She poked and prodded at Seema’s stomach. Felt her forehead. Her fingertips nimbly moved along her jawline and down her neck. Seemingly satisfied, she patted Seema on the shoulder and straightened—as best she could anyhow.
“Yer friend will be fine in a few days. Though my recommendation is that she no’ travel in that time.”
Moira nodded and said her thanks. As the woman exited, Errol placed some coins in her palm. She gave a small smile and disappeared into the hall.
“I told ye it was naught to fash o’er,” Seema said. “I just need to rest. Which I will do once ye two leave to sup. Go on. I willnae stand for ye to go hungry in my presence.” When neither she nor Errol made a move. She sighed. “I promise ye I will be fine. Please go.”
“Come on, lass. Yer maid is correct. Ye need to sup. Let her rest awhile.”
They both were right, of course, but it didn’t dissipate the feeling of guilt wringing Moira’s gut. When she looked at Seema, her maid nodded her head, encouraging her to go.
Moira clasped her hands together. “Lead the way,” she said, trying to infuse some cheeriness into her voice.
Shortly after the two of them were seated at a table in the pub that was next door to the inn. It was crowded and filled mostly with men. Unless the serving wenches counted. Their low-cut gowns offering the men a glimpse of their bosoms.
Uneasiness settled in her belly. She didn’t ken if it was because she was nervous from all the men surrounding her or if she was feeling the beginning of the affliction that had affected the others.
Most of the patrons wore the colors of the MacLeod clan, but not all.
However, she noted no one wore the colors of the Harts.
Moira fidgeted in her seat. People weren’t outwardly staring at her, but she still felt a sense of anxiety.
After all she was surrounded by clans people that her own family had been fighting against off and on for years.
“Ignore them,” Errol spoke, drawing her attention. “They willnae harm ye. ’Tis more curiosity that sparks their interest.”
She scanned the crowd. She wasn’t so sure she agreed with Errol’s assessment. Still, she wouldn’t let them see her unease. She willed herself to stop her nervous fidgeting and by the time one of the serving wenches came to their table, Moira had somewhat calmed down.
Venison stew was on the menu for this evening and the server returned a few minutes later with two steaming bowls of stew filled to the rim.
The thick liquid threatening to topple over the edge.
An end of crusty bread was dunked into each bowl.
The scent swirled around them, and Moira took a deep breath of the divine smell as the bowls were set in front of them.
Two tankards of ale followed a few moments later.
“So, what is next on your quest?” Errol asked, before he took a huge bite of the bread that had been soaked in the stew.
Moira dug out the map and slid it over to him. “I’m no’ for certs.” She bit her lip and pondered whether or not she should disclose the parchment she found. She hadn’t had a chance to read it yet so had no idea what it said. It could be a clue to where they need to go next.
Or it could be naught.
If it was something to assist their search, it would be daft of her to keep it a secret.
“I must confess, I havenae been completely honest,” she said quietly.
Errol’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing, his mouth set in a thin line. Then he surprised her by sweeping his gaze over at the people in the pub, before turning his eyes back to her. His hard expression gave her naught and she wasn’t sure why he looked so upset with her.
Still, she pushed on. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she spoke. “After ye left the chapel earlier, I found another item in the cupboard.”
His shoulders relaxed a little and his frown lifted just a bit.
“What was it?”
Moira lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I dinna ken. ’Tis a scroll, but I havenae opened it to see what it says inside, if aught.” She dug into her pocket and withdrew the rolled parchment.
“Open it.” Errol leaned in, closing the distance between them, his curiosity piqued.
She slipped off the fragile twine keeping the paper rolled, and carefully unfurled it. The parchment looked similar to the map.
The ink faded from the passage of time. Moira had to squint her eyes to see.
Errol grabbed the candle and moved it closer so they could read the words under more light.
‘If ye are reading this, then ye have found our symbols.
Two clans. Two coats of arms. One love.
Continue yer quest for more.’
Below the words was an illustration of what she could only assume was the next location.
Moira’s gaze clashed with Errol’s. “Are ye aware of a relationship betwixt a Hart and a MacLeod?”
Errol shook his head.
She didn’t ken of one either. She only kenned that the riff between the clans had started long ago. Long afore her da was born.
“But, clearly, that is what this is saying is it no’?”
Rubbing the stubble of his beard, he shrugged. “I cannae disagree, but I ken of none.”
Were they following some sort of love quest? Nay, they couldn’t be. The map mentioned a hidden Hart treasure. That wouldn’t equate to some lover’s tryst equating to a treasure hunt.
But she was baffled. In all of her research she had never found aught to suggest that the Harts and MacLeods had ever come together in a union. It would have been in the Hart annals. For certs her parents would have been aware of such a coming together. Wouldn’t they?
“If we continue on, the next stop on the map is a day’s ride from here.”
Her head snapped up. “Ye ken the location? Is it still on MacLeod lands?”
“Aye. I ken the general area. Though I dinnae remember what is there.”
*
The first clue had been found. Just as he believed, this hunt would uncover what his family had fought so hard to keep quiet for generations.
As much as he wanted to cut them down where they had stood at the chapel, he took pause at committing such an unholy act on sacred ground.
His hesitation made no sense, really. He didn’t really believe in a higher power.
If there was someone in the clouds, dictating people’s livelihoods from above, then they for certs would not have assigned him this particular lot in life. Why make him suffer for untold reason?
But it mattered naught. It was too soon. He needed to wait until they got to the last clue afore making his move. That way he could destroy all the clues, and no one would be the wiser.
His mission would be complete. His family’s secret would remain buried.
“I told ye I was smart,” he snapped to his father.
The man’s voice still rang strong in his head. Telling him he would be naught. That he was the reason his mother was dead.
Part of that was true, he supposed. She had died whilst birthing him. But was that really his fault? He had no control over such happenings. Mayhap she was a weak woman.
His brother had tried to talk about their mother. As if such conversations would keep her alive in their minds.
’Twas foolhardy. He had never met the woman. Never seen her. There was naught to remember.
He continued to watch them as they discussed their plans on how they would get to the next location. Even though they thought they were alone, they spoke quietly, making it hard to hear their conversation.
With a sigh, he sank onto the mossy ground. He would just have to wait until they moved on and continue to follow them. He looked forward to the end of this journey when he could put the whole thing to an end.