Chapter Seven #3
Annys did not even want to think about that.
She promised to send him the coin. Then she told him that he should make a list of his losses and damages and send her that information.
While the butcher tied a rope around the lamb’s neck so that Benet could lead the animal back to the keep, Annys took one last look at the village.
Due to the efforts of Harcourt and his men, no one had died or been seriously injured and the damage was far less than it could have been had they not been there to warn everyone and lend them aid.
There was still a lot of work to be done now to get the village looking better and return homes to the ones waiting to get inside them again.
Harcourt slowly rode by as she and Benet walked back to the keep.
Annys looked up at him, idly considering how handsome he looked astride his mount, and caught him grinning at her.
He looked at Benet and then the lamb, then looked back at her and cocked one dark eyebrow.
She thought wistfully on shaving it off his face while he slept.
“Look, Sir Harcourt,” Benet said, dragging his lamb forward so Harcourt could see it better. “The butcher gave me this lamb. ’Tis a girl lamb, ye ken. I am calling her Roberta.”
“A good name for a ewe. Dinnae ye think so, Lady MacQueen?”
“Dinnae ye have some hunting to do?”
He laughed, nodded, and rode away to join his men.
Annys glared at his broad back and saw his shoulders shaking with laughter.
She ached to throw something hard at that back but a quick glance to the side showed her that Benet was watching her.
Sighing at the lost chance, she started walking again and had to smile at the way he walked and talked with his lamb.
Once in the bailey, Annys turned coward. She did not want to face Dunnie so she sent Benet and his lamb off to the man without her. A quick look around revealed there were plenty of men within the walls of the keep and they all took a moment to notice where the child was going.
By the time Annys got to her room, she had lost the humor of Benet’s wanting the lamb and the annoyance caused by Harcourt’s amusement over that.
She shed her gown and washed away the stink of burning buildings.
All the while her spirits sank lower and lower until she knew she was very close to sitting on the bed and wailing like a bairn.
Tugging on a clean gown, she poured herself a tankard of cider and went to sit on the bench in front of the window.
It overlooked her gardens and could often lift her spirits.
Annys was not sure they would this time as gardens were pretty to look at but they offered one no advice on how to save people or land.
Seeing the destruction in the village, knowing how easily there could have been many people killed or scared by burns, she felt helpless.
She had to wonder if it was all worth it.
It was just land, just a building, yet she was fighting for it as if she had no choice.
There was a choice. She could hand it all over to Sir Adam, pack up her things, and find another place to live, something small but comfortable, something that would never draw the greedy eye of a man.
“Nay, Mary Two, ye must nay touch the flowers. They are Lady Annys’s and they are to look at and smell, nay to pick or play with.”
“They are verra bonnie. And they do smell verra nice. Like ye do, Mother.”
“Thank ye, love. Come let us sit here for a moment.”
Annys struggled to hear the words and leaned closer to the window.
Below in her garden a young, large with-child woman walked with a little girl.
The child looked to be about Benet’s age.
She thought a moment and then realized she knew who these people were.
Mary Two was what Dougal the weaver called his little girl because his wife was also named Mary.
They had all come to the keep because their home had been badly damaged.
“Do ye think we can have a bonnie wee garden at our house?”
“That would be lovely, dear heart, but we really dinnae have the room.” Mary idly picked the dead blossoms off the roses.
“I do love this, however. Mayhap your da can think of a way for me to have a wee corner for a few flowers.” She sat down on the bench and Annys could almost hear the sigh of relief the woman gave as she got off her feet.
“Did ye have a garden when ye lived with your family?”
“Nay, but there was a lady near to us who did and she would allow me to help her tend the flowers. My da thought it a waste of time and good earth that could have grown some food.”
“Nay, I like it. Do ye think we can come visit this every day?”
“We will go home soon, dear heart. It willnae take your da that long to fix what needs to be fixed. But, mayhap, someday, if we ask verra nicely, Lady Annys will let us come back for a visit.”
Annys watched as the woman suddenly looked in the direction of the gates. She whispered something to her child who smiled widely and they hurried off. The men had returned and Annys suspected Dougal the weaver was amongst them.
Her sense of hopelessness had eased and her battered spirit had strengthened.
Mary and Mary Two were the best reasons of all to keep fighting for Glencullaich.
They would find no welcome in any garden Sir Adam might have.
It was such a small thing but she knew it was almost a sign, something showing her what she had to do and why.
For the sake of the two Marys, mother and daughter, for Master Kenneth who raised a lamb and was doubting he could now kill it although he made his living as a butcher, and even for Old Meg who wept at the loss of her tiny cottage, she made her choice.
They were but a few of the many reasons she had to hold fast and fight.
A man like Sir Adam would crush such people beneath his boot.
Annys was determined not to give the man the chance to do so.