Chapter 9
Elizabeth
Elizabeth falls in love with Gil, the lad who helped Finlay save Kyla. Gil lives at Castle Curanta with Loki.
Loki and his band of orphans find a few more.
Gil stayed a distance behind Loki, in the hopes he wouldn’t keep commenting on the lavender aroma wafting from his purchase. Though he did his best to focus his thoughts on Lizzie, he failed. His mind couldn’t stop returning to the man he’d seen back at the vendor stalls. Could it have been Morgan?
He hadn’t gotten a really good look at the man, so he’d convinced himself he was wrong. He’d jumped to conclusions because his fears and emotions were driving him, something a warrior should never allow to happen.
He blamed the entire event on his imagination.
Either way, the possible sighting had distracted him more than he wished to admit. So when two lads boldly pushed through Loki, Thorn, and Nari, they were taken totally off-guard. Gil was the only one who noticed that one of them snagged a bag of coins from Loki’s pocket.
“Loki, your coin!” Gil shouted, racing after the lad of around seven winters.
Loki must have finally noticed because he was suddenly directly behind the lad. The two lads had run off in different directions, but Gil and Loki stayed with the wee thief. Nari and Thorn took off after the other.
He led them down a deserted pathway surrounded by trees. It was Loki who caught him, grabbing his collar and lifting him off the ground into the air. It wasn’t long before Thorn and Nari found the other one and dragged him over, cursing and kicking.
Loki placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and said, “Both of you on the boulder and do not move.”
The moment they saw his weapon, they backed up with no further complaints. “Return my coin, you wee thieves,” he insisted.
“I dinnae know him,” the first one said, glaring at the younger one as he crossed his arms.
“The hell you don’t. He is your partner in crime. Return my coin.” Loki leaned forward, using one of his favorite intimidation tactics.
The lad shook his head vehemently. “I have no coin. I know no’ what ye’re talking ‘bout.”
Loki motioned to Gil, and the two picked the lad up, Loki grabbing his hands while Gil took his feet, and shook him. Nothing happened. Loki made another motion to Gil, who hoisted his feet higher, turning him upside down until the coin bag fell from his trews.
“You wee thief. I know ’tis my bag because it has my initials sewn in it.” Loki picked it up and made sure the coins were all inside before indicating to Gil that he could set the lad down.
“Why are you stealing?” Loki asked. “Where are your parents?”
“We don’t have parents.” By the look of their grimy faces and dirty clothing, Gil had to believe he was telling the truth. “Who needs them anyway?” He cast a disgusted look at Loki.
“Tell me the truth about why you’re stealing. I’ll feed you if you’re hungry, but even growing lads like you don’t need this much coin to eat.”
Loki planted his feet apart and stood in front of the one who’d taken his coin, his arms crossed. The lad joined his friend back on the rock.
The smallest of the two, a lad with red hair and freckles, started to cry. The older one said, “Shush, you wee bairn.”
The lad bawled on, sputtering out a few words they could make out here and there. “Kill…catch us…dinnae want….to die.”
“Lad,” Thorn said, moving closer. “We’ll not kill you. We were all orphans, too.”
The older one looked flummoxed by the news, but the small one kept wailing. “They said if we make enough coin for them, they’ll take us to a nice place for orphans.”
Gil was surprised to hear that word of Loki’s work had traveled all the way into Edinburgh, though they did journey there at least once a year.
It infuriated him to think they’d been used as incentive for thievery, especially since he had little doubt the men behind this had no intention of following through.
“Stop,” he said to the laddie. “We’ll not kill you.” Hearing him carry on so tore a hole in his heart. Though he’d been older when his family had passed on, closer to the older one’s age, he’d felt like the wee lad in front of him.
Alone with no one to help him, no one to feed him, no one to talk with. He wasn’t surprised to see the wee one with the older one. What would have happened to him otherwise? “How do you know each other?”
“I protect him,” the larger boy said. “He’s too small to be alone. And there are really mean people out there.”
But the wee one kept sobbing.
Finally, the older one said, “He’s not afraid of you killing us.”
“But I am afraid,” the small one said, sniffling. “I’m afraid to die, even if you’re not. I’m afraid of all of them.”
“Out with it,” Loki said firmly. “Who are you working for and who do you fear will kill you?”
The thief finally said, “Will you buy us each a meat pie if we tell?”
Loki nodded.
“We work for a man who lives in a castle beyond the walls, from far away. He leaves men in Edinburgh who watch over us and make us steal. They feed us, but hardly enough. My belly is always growling.”
Gil recognized what the lad wasn’t saying. “You give the laddie some of your food, do you not?” He would have done the same.
The lad continued, “We never see the man in charge, but he tells the others whether or not to beat us. Some of them beat us whenever they wish, though. They don’t care if we deserve it or not.”
Simon had been like that. He’d never understood what set him off—if he’d known, he would have stopped the behavior. Eventually, he’d decided the bastard swung out whenever he was angry, and he didn’t care who he hurt.
“So we steal,” the lad said. “My apologies to you.”
Loki looked from Gil to Thorn and Nari. “Sounds familiar. I recall men trying to make me steal, but I always got away from them.”
“We’ll take you with us,” Gil blurted out, remembering a time when he’d wandered these streets, alone and desperate. Remembering where he’d ended up before finding the Grants. He didn’t want that for these lads. “We live in a castle for orphans. ‘’Tis as we said. We’re all orphans.”
The wee one stopped crying and whispered, “Ye will? Who runs the castle?”
“They’re telling you lies,” the thief said. “I’ve asked the nuns, and they said the only place they know that takes in all orphans is Castle Curanta, way up in the Highlands. She thought there was another one, too, but it’s even farther in the Highlands.”
“Mayhap they are not lying, Daw,” the wee one insisted.
“Shut your mouth, Herry,” he replied.
Loki smirked and asked, “What else do you know of that castle?”
“’Tis run by Loki, the orphan adopted by the Grant warriors,” Daw said with wonder. “He was such a good fighter in the Battle of Largs that the Grants gave him his verra own castle. He was adopted, and now he’s a Grant.”
Daw, who had dark hair, turned to Herry, whose red hair looked nearly brown from the dirt. “’Tis where we wish to go, but we don’t know how to get there. The one man said he’d take us there once we steal enough for them.”
Loki had a smug grin on his face, and he gave Gil a slight nod. Tempted to grin himself, Gil said, “Did you look at the initials inside the bag you took?”
“I cannot read letters,” Daw barked.
“I can,” Herry volunteered. “My Mama taught me my letters afore she passed from the fever. I was just beginning to read. May I look at the letters, my lord?” Herry asked.
Loki held the bag out for the lad, holding the initials up to his face. His eyes widened, and he slowly lifted his gaze to Loki.
“Aye, Daw. It says what you think it does.”
“What are the letters?” Daw asked.
Herry whispered, “L for Loki and G for Grant.”
“You read them correctly, lad. My dear lady sewed them carefully inside all my bags. My name is Loki, and I lived in a crate behind a tavern in Ayr before the Grants came along and took me with them.”
“You were truly adopted by the great Alexander Grant?” Daw asked, his ill temper washing away as awe filled his eyes.
“Nay, I was adopted by his brother, Brodie, and his wife, Celestina. They are my adoptive parents.” He sat down on a nearby boulder and rested an elbow on his knee. “But ’twas Alexander Grant who gave me Castle Curanta.”
“And every year we come to Edinburgh for orphans,” Nari added. “We’ll take you with us if you wish. You can live in our castle.”
Herry ran over and hugged Nari. “I want to go. I hate those men.”
Then he glanced back at Daw for his reaction. He didn’t answer quickly, instead slowly taking the measure of each of them. After a long pause, Daw said, “We’ll both go, but only if you train us to be Grant warriors.”
“Deal,” Loki said. “Anything else you need?”
Gil did his best not to laugh at Loki. He knew how to handle young lads.
He sat down on a log, memories washing through him.
After he’d gotten Kyla back to Cameron land, Chief Cameron had taken him right into the kitchens and told him he could eat whatever he wanted.
Gil thought he’d landed in heaven. Cameron keep had impressed him, but not as much as Castle Curanta.
The first time he sat at the trestle table with the other lads and lassies, they shared how they’d lost their parents. Loki came along and told them his story, something that made him realize he was finally where he belonged.
He’d made fast friends who’d never deserted him, Kenzie being his first. Kenzie had taken Gil along everywhere for the first fortnight, showing him everything. To this day, he was still Gil’s closest friend.
“Grant plaids,” Daw shouted excitedly. “Can we wear Grant plaids?”
“I’ll have our seamstress fit them to you. And new trews for winter, along with a tunic or two.”
The first time Gil had donned a Grant plaid and gone out to the lists to train, he’d finally felt as if he belonged.
Herry swiped the tears from his face, leaving a dirty streak across one cheek. He held his foot up and asked, “May I have new boots when we get to the Highlands, my lord?”
Gil was caught by the sight of the lad’s toes pushing out of the seam of the boot toe.
“Nay,” he said, before Loki could answer.
The lad was about to start crying again when Gil knelt down in front of him.
Up close, he’d guess him to be no more than five winters.
“Nay, Herry. We’ll get you the boots now.
I’ll take both of you. You’ll need good ones to get to the Highlands. And new woolen hose, too.”
Eyes shining with tears and happiness, Herry jumped up and hugged him.
Thorn added, “And we’ll protect you from the cruel bastards who forced you to steal.”
“I promise no one at Castle Curanta will beat you,” Loki said. “Ever. What say you? Say aye, and we’ll head to the meat pie vendor.”
Herry nodded quickly, while Daw took several seconds to agree. But he did it with a smile.
Once they filled their bellies, Loki strode down to an inn, entered, and said, “We’ll be staying the night. One large room with four pallets and two for the wee ones.” Thorn had held back to speak with the guards, making plans for the warriors to sleep in the town stables.
The innkeeper stepped away for a moment, and Herry pulled on Loki’s shirt and whispered, “We don’t have to sleep in the stables this eve, my lord?”
Loki patted the top of his head and said, “Nay, lad. From here on, we’ll keep you warm each night. Sometimes we huddle in a cave together, but you’ll be you warm.”
Gil swore he saw tears misting the bairn’s eyes. While the other had toughened, this lad clearly had not.
As if Loki could read his mind, he whispered over his shoulder. “Poor lad stayed with them for protection and to stay alive is my guess.”
Gil held his hand out, and it surprised him how quickly Herry grabbed it. He led him over to the hearth, the crackling flames inviting in the chilly front chamber only meant for welcoming guests.
Once the innkeeper returned and the arrangements were finalized, Loki nodded to the man. “We’ll return, but we’re heading to the bathhouse first.” Then he turned to glance at the lads, one at a time. “You smell. Both of you. Grant warriors don’t smell.”
Gil was distracted right away, memories of Sabina fresh in his mind.
A vendor with fabric animals was straight ahead so he knew what he had to do.
He reached the stall and picked up a gray dog who looked like a deerhound, paid for it, and handed it over to Herry, whose face lit up. “For me? May I keep it?”
“Aye, ’tis yours, lad. Daw, you need one, too?”
Daw, looking quite offended, said, “Nay, I’m too old.”