“Ye be certain ’twas Kerr and Toren?”
“I do no’ doubt Adair will tell ye so himsel’ when he is able.”
“Why would my sons do such a treacherous thing?”
“Ye know full well why. They are sick of relations turning up from over the water to take their lands. They wanted to make sure he’d go home.”
“Still and all.”
“They left him there in his blood.” To die? Bradana did not know. Adair was young and strong. Still, it was a shameful deed. “There behind the scraps o’ wood and all where the boats are repaired. He might no’ have been found till morning.”
“Aye, well. Your hound saw to that.”
Would Kendrick have been happier if his nephew had perished? Bradana could not tell. No doubt it would have solved a problem for him.
And hatched out another with his relations over the water.
The healer, with the help of one of Adair’s men, was shifting him on his makeshift bed. Bradana fought the desire to return to his side.
Blood on his hair. On his hands. A muffled groan.
“Father, wha’ is it?” As soon as Toren came in the door, closely followed by Kerr, Bradana knew he meant to play at innocence. She sneered inwardly.
“Where ha’ ye been?” Kendrick demanded.
“In our beds.” Toren peered past them into the hall. “What is happening, then?”
“Our guest has fallen foul o’ someone.”
“Ye do no’ say. Is he all right?”
“Has he accused us?” Kerr asked.
Bradana rolled her eyes and snorted. “Look at their hands. ’Twill tell the tale.”
Kendrick towed his sons outside, followed by Bradana and Wen. There he inspected their hands. Even by the dim light, the torn and bloodied knuckles could be seen. Both of them also carried abrasions to their faces, and Kerr’s cheek had begun to swell.
Kendrick nearly spat with aggravation. “What were ye thinking? We are under a geis of hospitality.”
“He needs to go,” Toren said.
“Aye so, but no’ wrapped in a shroud. His father is a powerful chief back in Erin. D’ye want him and a force o’ men here wi’ an axe to grind?”
“Nay.” Toren remained sullen. “But we will no’ lose our lands to him.”
“Get out o’ my sight,” Kendrick said in disgust. “Let me try to put this right.”
His sons left with alacrity. Kendrick went back inside, but Bradana stood for a moment, drinking in the cool air.
Adair would live. Precisely why that mattered so much to her, she could not tell. But it did, och aye, it did.
Chapter Twelve
Adair’s chest hurtevery time he drew a deep breath. The healer, a brusque old man with anything but a kindly touch, informed him his ribs were likely bruised or broken. He had a battered head, a lacerated eye, and bruises down low on his back, of a worrying nature.
“Do not be surprised,” the healer said, “if ye see blood when ye pass water.”
A cheerful thought that did nothing to raise Adair’s spirits. Most of what he felt was anger, mingled with a goodly helping of frustration. He’d given as good as he got, but there had been three of them—Kendrick’s two sons and a stranger—and he hadn’t been able to finish it.
