magnificent black warhorse,
Goliath, kicked at the walls and trumpeted, no doubt jealous the
stable master didn't lead him outside.
"What did you learn in the village this
morn?" Gramme asked Brian. He led his horse out the huge double
doors onto the cobblestones surrounding the stable. He spied Squat
in the grass, and from the looks of his position, he had shite to
spare. Poor, miserable little dog. He could smell him from ten
paces away.
"Older villagers were less at ease answering
questions, but the young lads were only too quick to tell about a
lovely girl found beside her dying horse, holding its head in her
lap."
"Aye," Colyne added. "Chief Broccin's other
son, the one named Moridac, found Muriele and brought her to the
keep."
"Ranald has a brother?"
"Dead now. Killed the day afore he was to
wed. 'Tis why Chief Broccin forced the monk home." Brian stared at
Squat and shook his head.
"Monk? What monk?"
"Ranald. Moridac's identical twin," Colyne
chimed in.
"Lucifer's piss! He was a monk?" Graemme's
mouth dropped open. No wonder the girl was a fey lass. Her father
was ready to cut off his ballocks, and he had called Graemme's
future brother-by-law a devil. Her family was even stranger than
his own.
"Aye. In Kelso Abbey. Has a terribly scarred
face and back. Father did it," Colyne said. He made a wide detour
around a foul looking mess on the ground.
"Near killed him then abandoned him for
fifteen years. When the other twin died, Chief Broccin took an army
to Kelso and forced the monk to return to the castle to sire
grandchildren," Brian said.
"Got a special paper from the Pope and all,"
Colyne added.
"Humph. No wonder he spits fire with his
eyes." Graemme shook his head. Poor bastard. "Did they say more
about the woman, other than her horse died and they brought her to
the castle? Where is she now?"
"She went with this Ranald and his wife
Catalin into Northumbria. She's part Saxon, part Norman. Word has
it he went to besiege his wife's castle. Her uncle had taken it
over." Brian adjusted his sword and scabbard and swung up into his
saddle.
Colyne settled his helmet on his head. "They
say the girl with hair the color of summer wheat didna return.
Could only be her. There is some talk about her disappearing into
thin air."
The stable boy tied a leather bag of supplies
behind Graemme's saddle then a second boy handed each man a leather
skin filled with enough water for the day.
"There's talk about a man with black hair and
eyes hard as granite sniffing around the village. One day he was
there, the next he was riding hard toward the English border like a
hound with a dripping prick chasing his bitch." Colyne gave his
horse a slap on the rump as warning to stand still before he leaped
into the saddle.
"Ye dinna look so good, Graemme," Brian said
as he eyed him. "Do ye not wish to stay abed whilst we check the
other villages?"
"Well, piss and shite. Nor would ye look hale
if ye had been shitting yer brains out all day. We will ride out as
planned."
Graemme wiped sweat off his forehead and
swallowed back bile surging to his throat.
Lady Joneta called to him. "Sir Graemme.
Hold, if you please."
She hurried down the path from a small
building built against the outer wall. She was walking carefully,
balancing a small jug whilst keeping her skirts from sweeping the
ground. And Squat's leavings.
"I prepared a potion to soothe your, er,
aches. By morning, you should feel your normal self." Her eyes
studied him. "'Tis naught but boiled barley water with a bit of
savory for you to drink."
"What will this do? 'Tis not the same as ye
gave me earlier."
"It will soothe your stomach and, um, quiet
your gut. Dinna eat food this day," she reached in her pocket and
took a cloth bag tied with string and handed it to him. "If you
hunger, boil this barley to make gruel."
He nodded and fastened the items in his
saddle pouch. Over the top of his saddle, he spied Squat as he
eased himself to lie down in the shade of a tree. "Do
Goliath, kicked at the walls and trumpeted, no doubt jealous the
stable master didn't lead him outside.
"What did you learn in the village this
morn?" Gramme asked Brian. He led his horse out the huge double
doors onto the cobblestones surrounding the stable. He spied Squat
in the grass, and from the looks of his position, he had shite to
spare. Poor, miserable little dog. He could smell him from ten
paces away.
"Older villagers were less at ease answering
questions, but the young lads were only too quick to tell about a
lovely girl found beside her dying horse, holding its head in her
lap."
"Aye," Colyne added. "Chief Broccin's other
son, the one named Moridac, found Muriele and brought her to the
keep."
"Ranald has a brother?"
"Dead now. Killed the day afore he was to
wed. 'Tis why Chief Broccin forced the monk home." Brian stared at
Squat and shook his head.
"Monk? What monk?"
"Ranald. Moridac's identical twin," Colyne
chimed in.
"Lucifer's piss! He was a monk?" Graemme's
mouth dropped open. No wonder the girl was a fey lass. Her father
was ready to cut off his ballocks, and he had called Graemme's
future brother-by-law a devil. Her family was even stranger than
his own.
"Aye. In Kelso Abbey. Has a terribly scarred
face and back. Father did it," Colyne said. He made a wide detour
around a foul looking mess on the ground.
"Near killed him then abandoned him for
fifteen years. When the other twin died, Chief Broccin took an army
to Kelso and forced the monk to return to the castle to sire
grandchildren," Brian said.
"Got a special paper from the Pope and all,"
Colyne added.
"Humph. No wonder he spits fire with his
eyes." Graemme shook his head. Poor bastard. "Did they say more
about the woman, other than her horse died and they brought her to
the castle? Where is she now?"
"She went with this Ranald and his wife
Catalin into Northumbria. She's part Saxon, part Norman. Word has
it he went to besiege his wife's castle. Her uncle had taken it
over." Brian adjusted his sword and scabbard and swung up into his
saddle.
Colyne settled his helmet on his head. "They
say the girl with hair the color of summer wheat didna return.
Could only be her. There is some talk about her disappearing into
thin air."
The stable boy tied a leather bag of supplies
behind Graemme's saddle then a second boy handed each man a leather
skin filled with enough water for the day.
"There's talk about a man with black hair and
eyes hard as granite sniffing around the village. One day he was
there, the next he was riding hard toward the English border like a
hound with a dripping prick chasing his bitch." Colyne gave his
horse a slap on the rump as warning to stand still before he leaped
into the saddle.
"Ye dinna look so good, Graemme," Brian said
as he eyed him. "Do ye not wish to stay abed whilst we check the
other villages?"
"Well, piss and shite. Nor would ye look hale
if ye had been shitting yer brains out all day. We will ride out as
planned."
Graemme wiped sweat off his forehead and
swallowed back bile surging to his throat.
Lady Joneta called to him. "Sir Graemme.
Hold, if you please."
She hurried down the path from a small
building built against the outer wall. She was walking carefully,
balancing a small jug whilst keeping her skirts from sweeping the
ground. And Squat's leavings.
"I prepared a potion to soothe your, er,
aches. By morning, you should feel your normal self." Her eyes
studied him. "'Tis naught but boiled barley water with a bit of
savory for you to drink."
"What will this do? 'Tis not the same as ye
gave me earlier."
"It will soothe your stomach and, um, quiet
your gut. Dinna eat food this day," she reached in her pocket and
took a cloth bag tied with string and handed it to him. "If you
hunger, boil this barley to make gruel."
He nodded and fastened the items in his
saddle pouch. Over the top of his saddle, he spied Squat as he
eased himself to lie down in the shade of a tree. "Do
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