Page 16 of Laird of Smoke
In truth, she felt sorry for them.Most of them were simply poor folk in a desperate situation.They had no coin.And no skills to make a living.
Or they were outcasts and exiles.
Or they had been raised by thieves and knew no other way.
But Jesus had forgiven a thief, even from the Cross.He’d promised the thief He would see him in Paradise.
Who was Eve to be less forgiving?
Of course, she would have felt safer in her nun’s habit.But it was foolish to assume bad intentions where there were none.She would do nothing unless they accosted her.Still, it seemed they would have made their presence known if they meant to be companionable.
She still hadn’t reached the village of Scone, which was a quarter mile from the convent near Scone Priory, where she intended to stay for the night.But now she was heading toward the deepest, darkest part of the woods.The trees blotted out most of what sun remained.Only narrow spears of light shot down upon the path to show the way.
She hoped she wouldn’t have to confront them in the shadows.
After several yards, her eyes grew more accustomed to the lack of light.She began to breathe easier.Perhaps she’d misjudged her pursuers.
No sooner did she have that thought than they suddenly rushed up behind her.
“Hold there, lassie,” one of them growled.
“Where do ye think ye’re goin’?”the other sneered.
She stopped with a resigned sigh and slowly turned to face them.
The light was too dim to identify them.With their hoods pulled forward over their faces, it was hard to see their features.But one of them was quite stout with a heavy black beard that sat on his chest like an overfed cat.His fellow was as thin and tall as a lance.Both were wielding daggers.
Still, there was no need to panic.All she had to do was channel a wee bit of her convent courtesy.
“Gentlemen,” she said with a welcoming smile, “I’m so glad ye’ve joined me.I heard ye followin’, and I wondered if ye meant to accompany me.As I’m sure ye know, the woods are full o’ danger, and I’d be quite grateful for your protection.I’m Lady Aillenn Bhallach,” she said, holding out a hand, “and ye are?”
The thin one was charmed and befuddled at once.“Tom, m’lady.Tom—”
His companion cuffed him.“Don’t tell her your name.We’re not here to make friends.”
Properly chided, the thin man shrunk back.
Black-beard snarled, “We’re here for somethin’ a wee bit more serious.”
“More serious?”She eyed them with innocent puzzlement.“Oh, are ye…?”She let her voice trail off, then lowered it to a whisper.“Don’t fret.If ye’re poachin’ or gatherin’ wood in the king’s forest, I won’t breathe a word.”
“Gatherin’ wood in the forest?”the black-beard mocked.Then he sobered.“Nay, wench.’Tis your silver we’re gatherin’.”
“Oh!”she exclaimed.“Well, that’s a shame.”She clucked her tongue in disappointment.“Ye see, the silver I have is bound for Scone Priory.”
“Not anymore,” the thin one scoffed, hoping to get back into his fellow’s good graces.
“We don’t care where ’tis bound,” the black-beard said.
“Right,” said the thin one.
“What I mean to say,” she gently explained, “is the silver isn’t mine to give ye.It belongs to God.”
“What?”the black-beard barked.
The thin one’s shoulders drooped.“God?”He lowered his dagger.
“I’m afraid so,” she said.“If ye take this silver, ye’ll be stealin’ from God Himself.”
