Page 123 of Laird of Steel
“Do you have the key?”
She shook her head.
“No matter,” he said, grabbing a small torch from the wall to light the way. “I’m sure I can open it.”
He was right. They navigated through the long tunnel—feeling their way over the rugged rock, past dripping, mossy walls, down the steep slope that led to the sea. When they reached the iron gate, he pulled a small leather bag of tools from the satchel. Using two slender steel picks with bent ends, he was able to work open the rusty lock.
Then he dug deeper into his satchel and pulled out a dull brown tunic and cowl.
“Put these on,” he said. “You’re going to be a monk.”
He extinguished the torch by tucking it into the wet sand between two boulders at the mouth of the cave. Then, while he stood guard at the gate, she changed into the monk’s robes. They dragged a bit, but the hood effectively hid her face.
After she’d changed, he took her servant’s garb and stuffed it into the satchel. Then he donned his helm and pushed open the unlocked gate, which squeaked on its hinges.
She pulled the hood around her face and stepped out.
Making their way across the damp sand, they may have looked odd—a warrior and a monk strolling along the shore of the firth. But only a few fishermen witnessed their passage. And once they climbed back up the grassy slope and found their way through the forest to the main road, they looked as common as any pair of travelers.
Adam had warned her the journey to Perth would take four days. But Merraid wasn’t about to complain. Once she began to experience the hazards of the road, she was glad she hadn’t set out on horseback alone.
Thieves abounded in the woods. Fortunately, they were intimidated by Adam’s armor and discouraged by the presence of his holy companion. But Merraid was certain a band of outlaws would have considered a lone maidservant an easy target. Of course, she would have disabused them of that notion with a few slashes of herjian.Still, fighting off villains would have wasted valuable time.
They walked all day, stopping by the roadside stream to rest, drink, and nibble at the cheese he’d brought. The skies had been only partly cloudy and blessedly free of rain. But as the last sliver of sun slid behind the horizon, she shivered with cold.
“Shall we stop for the day?” Adam asked.
“I can go on.” She wouldn’t let a bit of a chill get in the way of saving Gellir.
“We’re making good progress. There’s no need to suffer. Besides, I know a good keep nearby.”
“A keep?”
“You didn’t think we’d be sleeping on the ground, did you?”
Actually, that was exactly what she thought. It had never occurred to her to seek lodging. A maidservant with no coin wasn’t likely to find accommodations.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ll stay with the Wallace clan.”
She wondered how a man from the Lowlands of Scotland knew the Wallace clan. But an even more pressing matter concerned her.
“What if they ask me somethin’…holy?” Not only did she have a distinctly feminine voice, but she knew only a wee bit of Latin.
He gave her a sly grin that reminded her of Feiyan. “That’s easy. You’re a monk, aye? You’ve taken a vow of silence.”
She smiled back at him. It was ingenious.
Using only his wits, he managed to secure a place for them by the hearth in the great hall of Wallace. Adam greeted the laird like an old friend, mentioning how well the new cathedral at St. Andrews was coming along because of his generous contribution. Even Merraid couldn’t tell if that was true or not, but the laird seemed content for it to be so.
She slept soundly in the rushes, and they crept away at dawn to continue their journey.
By the end of the second day, Merraid’s feet ached, and her lips were chapped. But she wouldn’t complain. She’d walk barefoot over sharp rocks in a windstorm if it meant saving Gellir’s honor.
Adam came through again. The Laird of Graham had a sizable keep, room at the hearth, and, by curious coincidence, had also donated funds for the cathedral at St. Andrews.
Their good fortune, however, turned sour on the third day.
Storm clouds glowered down from the beginning, turning from white to gray to black as their mood darkened. By midday, heavy with moisture, they released their store of rain in a torrent that threatened to beat the travelers into the mud.
