Page 132 of Edge of Yesterday

Chapter Twenty-Two

When the vast abbey walls came into view, Cailean didn’t experience the same excitement he had the first time they’d visited. Now, the early morning mist reminded him more of a vampiric graveyard than the romantic monastery he’d visited three days ago. The guard who set their hurried pace glanced back and Lennox nodded. The man turned around and pulled his worn cloak closer about his shoulders. When they neared the gates, they would draw their ragged plaids and cloak hoods around their bodies and faces to hide their identities—and their weapons. Only the guard would speak, as no one at the abbey knew him.

Gregory and the horses waited in the forest with a dozen garrison men. Cailean had been torn between leaving Julianna at Raghnall and bringing her. Her threat to follow them decided the matter. In fairness, her fate was just as much at stake as his and he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at keeping her close. Relief or need? Cailean cast a covert glance at her. She hurried between him and Lennox, her own threadbare cloak pulled up over her head. This is where Crowe’s manipulations had to end. No matter what—or who—he found at the abbey, he would kill Crowe as quickly as possible and sort out the rest afterwards.

Julianna’s head turned in his direction. Their gazes met and he read in her eyes the memory of last night’s lovemaking as he thrust inside her. He’d planned to fall into bed and feign sleep, but she wasn’t to be put off. He’d proven himself a fit husband. She demanded her wifely rights and he hadn’t been able to refuse. And God knows, he’d wanted her badly. She smiled and his chest constricted. He’d fallen in love with her. When he left, she would recover. He wouldn’t.

They broke from the trees and he snapped his attention away from the woman who now held his heart. He needed to focus on the task at hand. He dared not risk a distraction.

They slowed so as to give the impression they were travel-worn beggars. The abbey gates lay open. At least their start had gone well. Lennox nodded to him and he pulled his plaid and hood around his face. They neared the entry and Cailean silently cursed when two riders galloped through the gates. They wore great kilts and swords. Julianna slid a hand into the crook of Cailean’s arm and pulled her worn cloak closer so that none of her flesh was visible. Even the hands of a gentlewoman could give her away. Lennox eased nearer to her and the guard slowed so that he closed ranks around her as she leaned heavily on Cailean and limped.

With his right hand, Cailean held his cloak closed in the front and kept his left hand on his sword to prevent the blade from pressing out against his cloak. Anyone who spotted Triumph wouldn’t believe for an instant he was a beggar. He kept his head down, but from the corner of his eye, he watched the riders as they approached. Medieval folk were no fools. The men gave them a wide berth and urged their horses into a canter past them. Cailean listened to the retreating clop of horses’ hooves as he, Julianna, Lennox and the guard continued their slow amble through the gates.

Julianna looked up at him. She flashed a reassuring smile, but he read the fear in her eyes. Hate rocketed through him anew and he wished Crowe was there so he could run his sword through his belly.

Patience, he told himself for the thousandth time. Crowe won’t escape Triumph.

This time, instead of staying on the main path through the abbey grounds, they quickened pace and entered a smaller path through the orchards. This new route skirted far west of the main hospital where minor ills and aches were treated and ended at the infirmary known as the leper house.

The very idea of a leper house still gave Cailean pause. When Lennox had suggested they go there, Cailean had disagreed. The fact no lepers, or those suffering from other dire illnesses, had darkened Reay’s doors since Heatheredge had taken Father Andrew’s first mass—yet another blessing, Julianna had pointed out—didn’t quite ease his concern. He didn’t want to risk Julianna contracting one of those diseases. The area was little-visited and Lennox believed the plumbing and sewage system built beneath the abbey could be accessed there unseen. The reasoning was sound and Cailean had been forced to capitulate.

“No’ many about, eh?” Lennox glanced from beneath his ‘plaid hood’ at Cailean.

Cailean nodded. “Cannae say I blame them.”

Julianna snorted. “As I told ye, Cailean, we havenae had a serious illness here at Reay Abbey—or Heatheredge—in fifteen years. Only those poor men whose battle wounds are great enough to end their lives are tended in the leper house. Ye need no’ worry.”

“I cannae help worry about ye, lass, as you clearly don’t worry about yourself.”

She said nothing, but Cailean glimpsed her pleased smile beneath her hood. The woman was a handful. His handful…for a little while, at least.

They neared a covered walkway that appeared to lead to the infirmary’s communal latrine block and continued to their destination. As expected, they found the leper house deserted.

Lennox nodded to their guard, who’d been instructed to wait for them at the rear of the building, behind the brothers’ small medicinal herb garden and workshop or, if anyone appeared, to hide in the small grove of crab-apples just beyond. They only needed to avoid the priests they knew. Anyone else would take them for a group of wayfarers who’d fallen ill and sought treatment in the abbey. Still, to have encountered no one at this hour was amazing. Cailean hoped to God their good fortune lasted. They couldn’t withstand a barrage of questions from Rathais, or worse yet, Crowe.

Once inside the abbey proper, they could enter the scriptorium through the rear, well away from the gardens, courtyards and cloistered walkways that fronted the abbey. That meant they had to search behind the main buildings to find the subterranean sewers Lennox said ran beneath Reay. The monks had learned from the Romans how to supply running water to their bath-houses, toilets, and kitchens. And such a plumbing system required a service access for repairs.

They began a search and, five minutes later, Lennox called them to a low wooden door set into the monastery’s fortified back wall where undergrowth had been cut back. No guard barred the way, nor did a lock stop him from lifting the latch and opening the door. A rush of cold, damp air fanned around them and they stared at steep stone steps that wound down into darkness. The distant murmur of running water filtered up.

Cailean looked at Julianna. “Perhaps you should wait here, lass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stand aside.” She stepped onto the landing.

“Julianna,” he began, then broke off when she lifted a basket that hung from a hook just inside the door. Candles and hand-held rushlights, complete with flint, lay in the basket.

“The good brothers provided light.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “It would be rude to refuse their hospitality.”

Cailean couldn’t prevent a smile. “That’s my lass.”

Lennox lit the rushes, one for each of them, plus a spare, and then replaced the basket on the hook.

Cailean began the descent with Julianna behind him and Lennox in the rear. He didn’t care for the slippery stones.

“Watch where you step, Julianna,” he warned.

“Sweet Jesu, but ye like giving orders,” she muttered.

Cailean snorted. “Isn’t that a husband’s duty?”