Page 83 of Laird of Smoke
She didn’t realize how lonely the road would feel after enjoying his delightful company.
Her journey toward Glasgow was bursting with the signs of spring.Red squirrels spiraled up trees.Sparrows sang from the branches.Meadowsweet blanketed the sunlit glens, their scent blown on gentle winds.And yet, with no one to share such things, they were only a sad reminder of her solitude.
Had her namesake felt such sorrow after indulging in the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge?In the Bible, Eve’s punishment—to be banished from the Garden of Eden—had been severe.
But had she regretted what she’d done?
Or, given a second chance, would she have done it all again?
It was a difficult question.
A question that tormented Eve on the plodding journey to Glasgow.
A question she couldn’t answer, even when the monks welcomed her into the monastery as one of their own and she prayed on it all night long.
If he got away with this, Adam thought, it would indeed be a miracle.
He’d discovered, after taking inventory of her things, that Aillenn had taken her nun’s habit with her.That was likely what she was wearing.Which meant she must be staying at convents.
If Adam wished to shadow her, he’d need to have access to those convents.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t look less like a nun.
He had to make do with what he found in Aillenn’s satchel.
The robe he was using for a habit was far too short, so he had to walk hunched over like an old woman.He fashioned a length of linen into a veil and another he pinned to the veil as a makeshift wimple.There was nothing he could do about his boots or the shadow of a beard on his face.So he provided distraction by way of a knobbed branch he used as a walking stick, waving it about cantankerously, forcing bystanders to keep their distance.
He’d had to sell the horse.There was no way to explain why an elderly nun would ride a fine steed.
Consequently, it took him four times as long as it should have to cover the distance to the nunnery at Glasgow.By the time he arrived at the convent, he ached from miles of hunching, limping, and brandishing the staff.The one blessing was that night had fallen.Thus the abbess took pity on the aged sister and didn’t look too closely in the dark at her manly boots or her stubbled chin.
Adam discovered, to his dismay, the nuns ate like birds.It was a good thing he’d availed himself of Aillenn’s hard cheese and oatcakes, for supper was a disappointing bowl of thin neep pottage and horsebread.
But what he lacked in nourishment, he made up for in news.
After supper, Adam overheard three sisters in the cloister having a discussion about the king in hushed tones.His ears perked up.
“Did ye hear about Laird Fergus o’ Galloway and the king?”one of them murmured.“Rumor has it—”
“Rumor?”a second sister scolded.“Pah!”
“This ‘rumor’ I heard from the abbot himself.”
“Ah, then ’tisn’t a rumor,” opined a third.“’Tis practically Gospel.”
“What did he say?”
“He said the king is preparin’ an attack on Galloway.”
Adam frowned.
“What?I thought peace was made at Perth.”
“Aye,” the third agreed.“By an emissary o’ the Pope.”
Adam had to smile at that.
“’Twas,” the first said, “among the other lairds.But Fergus wasn’t at Perth.”
