The man did not move. Arlo crouched down beside him. “I think ye have killed him,” the lad said, breathlessly.
“I have not felled a man with one punch to the head.” Callum flexed his fingers, mayhap wishing he had.
Gregor groaned, his long limbs flailing on the grass.
“Get up,” Callum repeated, conscious of the scene they were causing. The tramp of booted feet came from around the corner. If the guards were to hear anything amiss, they would be upon them in seconds.
It seemed to take an age, but eventually Gregor stood, waving away Arlo’s hesitant offer of assistance. “At least ye fight like a warrior,” he declared.
Callum was taken aback, but he didn’t let it show. “As one warrior to another, I ask you to leave now, Gregor. I cannot risk your doubts and suspicions sabotaging my ability to carry out the Bruce’s orders.” He ensured his words were forceful even as his voice was as low as a whisper.
Gregor put a hand to his head. “Ye will let me fetch my things?”
“Aye.” Callum turned around the inspect the courtyard. Even the chickens had moved on elsewhere. ’Twas hard to believe, but their terse exchange appeared to have gone unnoticed.
Though the banging shutter snagged in his memory. Callum stepped closer to the hall, wondering which window the noise had come from. Had Frida been sitting and watching all along? The thought made his heart ache.
He might wish to put Tristan’s sister from his mind and his heart, but she had carved a space for herself in both places. She would not be leaving any time soon.
Arlo shouted a warning, breaking into his spiralling thoughts. He felt warm hands on his back, pushing him to one side. There was a sickening thud and a gasp, almost of surprise.
Callum waited for the pain to hit him. When none came, he turned around.
Then came the pain.
Young Arlo lay face down on the grass. The curved handle of Gregor’s knife sticking from his shoulder blade.
Gregor stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable.
Callum’s moan of anguish was almost inaudible as he sank to his knees by the lad’s prone form.
“Arlo,” he said urgently, putting a hand to the lad’s warm cheek. Blood soaked through the boy’s shirt, pooling on thetrampled grass. A sickly-sweet smell wafted up towards him. Breathing heavily, Callum lifted his eyes to Gregor. “What have ye done?”
“I didnae mean to strike the lad,” the highlander protested. His black eyes flickered past Callum and what he saw galvanised him into action. He scuttered backwards, then turned and broke into a run. Before Callum realised what was happening, Gregor was pounding along the path to the main gates.
“Stop him,” bellowed Callum. Far away, the guard at the gates stepped into position, blocking Gregor’s path with his sword at the ready.
Callum shifted his attention back to Arlo. “Stay with me, lad,” he begged.
He started to see Jonah dropping to his knees on the other side of Arlo. The English lord placed his fingers on Arlo’s neck, searching for a pulse and smiling in confirmation when he found one. “He lives still.” Jonah met Callum’s eye. “Do not remove the knife until Frida is here.”
“Can we send for her?”
“She is already on her way.” Jonah smiled briefly. “I was watching you from the solar.”
Distantly, Callum registered that this represented a new danger. What exactly had Jonah seen? More importantly, what had he heard?
“I heard you speak up in defence of Frida,” Jonah answered his unspoken question. “And in defence of me.”
“I would do naught else,” Callum replied, his attention still fixed on Arlo.
“Aye, I see that now.” Jonah stood with surprising grace considering his club foot. “You have proven my suspicions invalid, Callum. I am sorry for doubting you.”
“I did not know of these doubts,” Callum declared. “But all I can think of now is the preservation of this young life.”
He spoke with sincerity, straight from his heart. Even when beautiful Frida hurried down the steps, he was little moved by the fierce determination in her eyes and voice as she directed willing servants to assist her.
The turmoil of his thoughts had abated. His focus had narrowed to one thing. Arlo’s life.
