Epilogue
The Route to Cork
By early spring, MacLeod Castle still had no great hall.
Logs and planks braced the walls that remained standing. A small roof sheltered only the section beside the old kitchen.
Diana stopped in the courtyard and watched two men secure a new beam above the former records room.
The temporary roof already sheltered the hearth and half the shelves.
Rain still reached the rest of the room whenever the wind shifted, which was why Iain kept the herbs in boxes and complained at the sky in Gaelic.
Near the well, Graeme supervised the removal of the last stones blocking the opening. Water had reappeared the week before, dark and still unfit for use. Dugald estimated that cleaning it would take many more days.
The families remained in the shelters between the slopes. Only the workers and two guards slept in the protected area beside the old kitchen. The hall remained open, the west tower was still unstable, and no wall rebuilt itself merely because spring had arrived.
The reconstruction advanced at the pace allowed by the hands available, the timber they could obtain, and the stones that could still bear weight.
Diana entered the treatment room carrying a basket. Iain looked up from the worktable.
"Did you bring the bandages?"
"And bread."
She broke off a piece and bit into it before arranging the cloths.
Iain watched her.
"Again?"
"I am hungry."
"Three mornings ago, the smell of stew drove you out of the kitchen."
"The stew was bad."
"Eliza ate two bowls."
"Eliza considers appetite a form of resistance."
Iain rested his hands on the worktable.
"Have you told Alistair?"
Diana placed the bandages on the shelf.
"I am not certain yet."
She was certain enough to have counted the days twice. Her monthly courses were late, her breasts tender, and meat turned her stomach in the mornings. Even so, naming the possibility would make it larger than the space between her body and her thoughts.
"He has noticed," Iain said.
"Alistair notices soldiers on hillsides and badly secured positions. He does not notice the contents of my stomach."
"Yesterday he asked why you were not carrying the pail. He also sent for dried apples from Inverness."
Diana went still.
"I did not ask for apples."
"I know."
She found Alistair beside the well, examining the new rope. The scar from the ball no longer limited his movements, though the cold still made him put a hand to his ribs.
He saw her and handed the rope to Graeme.
"Have you eaten?"
"Half a loaf."
"Only that?"
" Iain took up the rest of the morning."
Alistair came closer.
"Are you ill?"
"No."
"Tired?"
"A little."
"Does meat still trouble you?"
Diana folded her arms.
"How long have you been making a list?"
"Since you left the kitchen to be sick behind the wall and came back claiming you were looking for thyme."
"I did find thyme."
"Afterward."
Diana took his hand and led him to the old herb garden. The first green shoots were appearing between the stones. The wall offered little privacy, yet everyone nearby developed a sudden interest in their tools.
She placed a hand over her stomach.
"I believe I am pregnant."
All the vigilance left Alistair's face.
"You believe?"
"My body is presenting convincing evidence. Iain suspects it as well."
"Iain knew before I did?"
"Iain recognizes symptoms. It is a difficult failing to avoid."
Alistair placed his hand over hers, with a care that seemed excessive in a man who had faced Malcolm with a sword.
"Are you well?"
"I am."
"And the child?"
"It is still early. I cannot promise what I do not know."
He nodded.
"Then we'll begin with what we know."
Diana looked toward the well being restored and the unfinished roof.
"That sounds familiar."
"You chose a family with limited methods."
"There is also a buried well."
"Almost recovered."
Alistair kissed her forehead, then her fingers where both their hands covered the child they could not yet feel.
"You will not order me to remain seated," Diana said.
"No."
"Nor will you send all the patients away."
"No."
"Nor will you order Iain to watch my every step."
Alistair looked over her shoulder.
Iain stood in the doorway.
"That last decision was already made without me."
The messenger arrived before noon.
He came from the harbor carrying a salt-stained letter. Graeme gathered Alistair, Diana, Eliza, and Dugald beneath the covered section of the old hall. The sender was a Scottish merchant established in Cork.
Penelope Hawthorne had been seen in the city nine days earlier.
The letter said she still carried a narrow case of documents and was seeking buyers or allies interested in routes through the Highlands. Two men connected to Sir Tobias Redmayne were also asking questions about the parchment.
"So he hasn't abandoned the map," Graeme said.
"He's only left others to fight over it," Alistair answered.
Eliza read the final line again.
"Penelope will begin with houses where an English widow can be received without questions."
"You know her habits," Alistair said.
"Better than I'd like."
He turned to Graeme.
"And you can follow men who do not wish to be found."
Graeme folded his arms.
"You're sending us to Ireland."
"I'm asking whether you'll go."
"I'll go," Eliza said.
Graeme looked at her.
"That didn't require much thought."
"I thought during the reading. You merely struggled to keep up."
"Cork isn't Inverness."
"Excellent. I already know Inverness."
"You've never been to Ireland."
"Neither have you."
"Exactly."
"It's reassuring to begin equally ignorant."
Alistair interrupted before equality could become another argument.
"You'll leave in two days. You'll take money and names of contacts. Observe before you act."
"Was that last part directed at him?" Eliza asked.
"Both of you."
Diana went with her sister into the courtyard. For the first time since childhood, a journey would take them to different countries.
Eliza noticed the pressure in Diana's hand.
"I'll find the map."
"Find a way back first."
"Graeme will be responsible for carrying heavy objects and looking threatening."
"He has experience in both duties."
Graeme approached with the letter.
"If we leave early, we'll reach the ship before the tide."
Eliza raised her eyebrows.
"You've already started giving orders, and we're still in Scotland."
"Someone has to keep you from causing a disaster before Cork."
She walked past him toward the shelters.
"I've spent the last few months preventing yours, MacLeod. In Ireland, it'll be your turn."
Graeme followed her.
"So you agree you need supervision."
"I agree one of us will have to stop the other from causing a disaster before Cork."
"Me."
"We'll see."
They disappeared down the path, still arguing.
Diana leaned against Alistair, his hand covering hers over her stomach. Ahead of them, Graeme and Eliza walked together to prepare for their first journey to Ireland, each convinced that the greater danger was walking at their side.