Picking up a stick, he wrote into the dark, heavy mud on the banks of the brook.
Thu fhèin
He prayed she would see it.
Prayers, unfortunately, that were not answered. Later that day, after he’d left for Edinburgh, a storm rolled in from the sea and those two simple words were washed away by the rain, forever washed away in the brook that trickled down to the sea.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Auchnacree
Isadora didn’t likethat her father was wavering on the side of a defeatist.
Niall had been discussing what to do about the Lindsay’s aggression with the village elders for months now, but no solution had been reached. On this evening, she waited for her father in the shadows of a nearby cottage, hiding back in the darkness as he emerged from meeting with the village elders with his sons around him.
These days, Isadora wasn’t allowed into the hall when the men were meeting because she’d made too much of a spectacle of herself recently.
She hardly cared.
Grief had changed her.
They’d all seen it, though no one really knew why. Isadora was a strong woman in the best of times, sometimes curt, but always fair. Since the burning of Netherton, however, her manner had become morose and moody. Rumors in the village spoke of people seeing her crying alone in the vale. Someone even said they’d seen her heading toward Netherton, a rumor that Ewan and Ossian could confirm because they had followed her. She had indeed gone to Netherton to look around, but theynever asked her why because they didn’t want her to know she’d been followed.
Her sullen, almost combative, behavior had become quite the mystery.
The village elders had seen that behavior come undone at times, so she’d been banned from attending any more meetings. Still, Isadora’s father told her everything that had been discussed so she knew what was happening. She had a better head on her shoulders than nearly everyone in the village and in the privacy of their cottage, she often helped her father sort through things.
Like tonight. She was tired of waiting on those weak fools who called themselves elders yet never did anything to help their village. All they did was talk.
She wanted action.
“Well?” she said as her father and brothers came near.
Isadora stepped from the shadows, blocking their path. They had no choice but to come to a halt.
“The usual,” Niall said, unable to look at her because it sounded so weak. “They speak of defense.”
That was frustrating rhetoric to Isadora. “But what about preventing the Lindsay raids we’ve had as of late?” she demanded. “What of retaliation? The men who destroyed Netherton and now enter our lands and harass our farmers because they know we willna fight back. What about—?”
Niall cut her off, moving around her as he continued his trek toward the cottage the family shared. “It was discussed,” he said. “Of course it was discussed.”
“And?”
“And they’re afraid of losing men, Issie. ’Tis better tae let the raids inflict damage than let them kill off our young warriors in an offensive. We’ll need those lads if we are tae survive.”
He meant her brothers, Ewan and Ossian. He didn’t want to lose his sons. But to Isadora, it was that defeatist attitude again and it enraged her. For her people who had been wronged, she wanted justice, but for that sweet young man she lost those month ago, she wanted revenge.
She wanted a pound of flesh.
Isadora ran after her father as he walked away. “Our men need tae learn tae fight properly,” she insisted. “If they know about tactics and how tae truly fight, then we’ll launch an offensive and we’ll win. They need tae betaught, Da.”
Niall eyed her. “What are ye talking about, lass?”
She saw that she had his attention. “When I was young, ye used tae speak of a place where men went tae learn tae fight,” she said. “Do ye recall? The Ludus Caledonia.”
Niall shook his head impatiently. “Not now, Issie,” he said. “There’s no time tae—”
She cut him off. “Da, ye spoke of The Cal when I was younger. Ye told me it was a place tae learn tae fight. Did ye lie tae me, then?”
