Page 76 of The Hawk Laird
“Not tonight. I will let him sleep, and carry him all day tomorrow if he needs it. Then I will try him on a longer line, the length of the field, if he is ready. His wing is stronger.”
“And he is finally taming.”
“As much as he can. Tell me what happened, lass. Are you warmer?”
“S-some,” she said, teeth chattering. “The visions came in the pool, though the water was lovely, and I was relaxing, and heard you singing. And then they came. And the blindness came too. I got out of the pool, and panicked.”
“All is well now. What did you see? Do you remember?”
She hesitated. “I—saw my father, and you. You were in grave danger, Jamie. I know that.” She ducked her head to her knees, huddling there. “My father was in a dungeon. I must find him.”
“Ralph Leslie can likely help you. He may know.”
“Aye,” she whispered. “I saw you. It seemed like an ambush. I know there was danger. And there were other images—battles, men fighting. And you and I in a garden. By a hawthorn.” She shrugged.
He frowned at that, but said nothing of what came to him. “Isobel,” he murmured. “Your father and the priest would ask questions of you, so that you could describe what you saw.”
“During a vision. Not after it.”
“Bring it back,” he said quietly. “Tell me what you see. I will help you remember.”
She nodded. Then she lifted her head and closed her sightless eyes, breathing deeply. For several breaths, he listened to the crackle of the fire.
“A pilgrim on the steps of a church in the rain,” she said. “He walks toward a hawthorn tree. He is a laird... and the tree guards a secret.”
James felt struck to his soul. He had heard something of the prediction that had circulated throughout the Borderlands—but now, hearing it from the seeress stunned him.
Her description of the church matched Dunfermline Abbey, even to the hawthorn tree that grew close to it, yet she had never been there. He had walked past that very tree not long ago, cloaked as a pilgrim. The tree had a secret—for it sheltered beneath its branches the hidden grave of his friend’s beloved mother, protected from any who might disturb her rest.
“A battlefield beside a wide stream….” Isobel continued, detailing what more she saw.
“A lion protects the hills of Scotland?” he repeated. “Who is the lion?”
She turned her head back and forth. “He is... Robert Bruce, earl of Carrick. He will take the crown for himself, but years will pass before his leadership triumphs. But Scottish independence will be broken again, hundreds of years from now. Centuries will pass before Scotland and England live in peace. Roads will cover the land and wagons made of steel will speed past without horses.”
He stared at her, dumbstruck. She was quiet for a bit.
“The laird of the wind will be taken,” she said then. “The hawk of the tower cannot be trusted.”
“When will the laird be taken?”
“Soon.” She stilled as if something new came to her. “A folded parchment drops from the hand that holds it. The laird protects the lion’s secret with his life. Another parchment”—here she frowned—“but the ink on the page disappears.”
A chill went through him. No one knew about the creased and folded parchment that Wallace had dropped the night he was taken. James had found it later.
Isobel drew a long breath and opened her eyes, tilting her head as if listening for him. “James?”
“I am here.” He took her hand. “Dear God, you are a true visionary with a rare gift. No wonder your father protected you, and the priest wrote down every word. Do you recall what you said now?”
She shrugged. “Something about you. And battles, and Scotland.” She drew the blanket higher.
He gathered her close to warm her and murmured what she had said, speaking calmly to hide his astonishment and his own puzzlement.
“You are in danger if you go through with the exchange,” she said. “The laird of the wind will be taken—”
“Danger always exists,” he said. “We who fight as rebels accept that. Nor did your vision reveal when this could happen. I could be in a skirmish days—or years from now.” He tucked her closer. “And it might be symbolic. There are other ways a man can be taken down.”
She frowned. “How so?”
