They were clever craft, he knew. Narrow enough to fit between the stony arms of such an inlet, and they did not need much draft. Could sail up rivers, it was said. Floating weapons.
He cursed them one and all.
Borald came up and joined them on the wall, taking the stairs by leaps and bounds. He cast a questioning look at Quarrie but asked nothing here before the guardsman.
Not but everyone doubtless knew everything he and the Norsewoman had discussed by now.
“Signs o’ movement?” Borald asked.
“No’ yet.”
“The women and children will be ready to leave this morn, at your order.”
“Aye.”
“I ha’ chosen a number o’ men to accompany them awa’ to the hills.”
It would not be easy out in the open, especially for women with small children and the men who accompanied them—a hard task, and yet they might be the only men of MacMurtray blood left alive when this was done.
“Send them,” Quarrie decided. “As soon as we see those sails on the move.” Better to be safe than sorry.
Borald nodded.
Quarrie let his gaze stray from the sea and wander over the settlement, blessed by the soft morning light. Would this be the last time he saw all these buildings standing? The place he loved, before fire took it.
He had few illusions. If he handed himself over, it would be to torture. Merciless abasement before a no doubt more merciful death.
Better him than Da.
Da would be up on his feet and moving this morning. If he could manage it. Quarrie needed to go and check on him.
“Stay here,” he told Borald. “Keep watch.”
“I will no’ stir, no’ before we see sails.”
Quarrie heard Da yelling even before he entered the chamber. He hurried in to find Da struggling to get out of his bed. Ma strove either to assist or restrain him, along with the ghillie who served as Da’s manservant.
Da’s agony, though, thwarted his efforts.
Kalen, the ghillie, cast Quarrie a relieved look when he came in. “Best call the healer, Master Quarrie. He is in a lot o’ pain.”
Did Quarrie make up his mind as to what he must do at that moment? Or had it already been decided?
“Ye go for the healer,” he bade Ma, and took her place, attempting to ease his father back down.
Kalen’s appalled eyes turned to Quarrie. “He says, does the chief, he means to turn himsel’ over to the Norse.”
“Get awa’ fro’ me!” Da threw them off with unexpected strength. “’Tis exactly wha’ I shall do.”
“Nay, Da—”
“Am I no’ still chief here?” Da’s eyes burned fierce, and fever seared his cheeks. A determined man, and a very sick one.
“Da, let me meet wi’ this woman first, and see wha’ may be bargained.”
“I will be at that meeting.”
“Nay.”
