Page 16 of Darach

“I’m sorry. I…I had a bad dream.” Still slightly disoriented, she brushed the hair back from her face. That was when she saw sunlight on her skin, and realized it lit up the whole room. “It’s morning already. It seems like I just went to sleep a few minutes ago.”

“Dinnae trouble yourself over such.” Darach guided her over to the hearth, and nodded at the rack. “Your clothes, they’ve dried. I’ll leave you to dress, and then take you to the great hall. ’Tis where we’ll share the morning meal with the laird and his lady.”

Charlotte didn’t want him to go, but knew she had to stop being so clingy. “That would be nice, thank you.”

After he left she put the coverlet back on the bed and took off the tunic he’d given her. The bruises on her torso looked worse this morning, and her cheek had grown a little more swollen, but her forehead didn’t hurt as much. She wished she had a mirror, but since she was in the Middle Ages that was likely out of the question.

No hair brush, make-up or toothpaste or toothbrush, either.

Charlotte poured a handful of water from the jug into her hand, and used that to rinse out her mouth. Once she had dressed in her own clothes she unwound the bandage from her head, and touched the gash, which seemed as if it had scabbed over already. She combed her hair with her fingers before she loosely braided it, and bound the end with the hair tie she’d tucked in her pocket last night.

No doubt the laird would want to talk to her again, but Charlotte wanted to speak with his wife, who had gone through this before and came from her time.

Why would a magic sword rescue an artist? I can’t do anything but paint.

What Seona had said in the dream came back to her in that moment, as if she were answering her from across time.

He has to stop you, or you’ll see everything.

* * *

Since Callum’s death Struan had not altered his daily habits to accommodate the duties of a laird; instead he ignored all but the most important and set them to suit himself. The necessary tasks of listening to the daily reports from his patrol captains and steward he accomplished by sharing his morning meal with them in the laird’s chamber. It also served to keep the men and his vassals slightly uneasy, which he preferred.

After the captains finished their food and reports they left, but the steward lingered, looking as if he needed to ask for a beating.

“What is it?” Struan prompted him.

“I summoned the laundress and tanner to question them, my lord, and they now wait in the hall.” The steward grimaced. “’Tis only that I cannae put faith in what they’ve claimed, and I wouldnae waste your time listening to such drivel.”

“I shall determine the value of their words,” he told the man. “Bring them in.”

The steward left and returned with a middle-aged pair who appeared familiar to Struan. The thin, red-handed laundress he recognized as the daughter of one of the clan’s weavers, as she had her sire’s bulging eyes and hooked, narrow-bridged nose. The tanner from the village, obviously dressed in his best garments, had a deeply flushed face and twin sweat rings under his arms. He looked like a slightly insane brawler who had been redressed to attend a wedding or funeral.

“You first,” he said, pointing to the tanner. “What ken you of the trapper who disappeared?”

“Trapper Dugal and me, we come up together as village lads, my lord.” The man rolled back his shoulders and puffed out his chest, which strained at the laces of his fine tunic. “Aye, and we’ve shared a dram of whiskey at week’s end for the last twenty year. When he didnae come to the tavern last week after promising to share a jug, I reckoned him gone for good.”

Struan wondered if the tanner had indulged in whiskey before coming to Dun Deigh. “That tells me naught.”

“’Tis but I ken Dugal, he wouldnae go willing.” The tanner made a helpless gesture in the general direction of the village. “Ever he’s been guarding his daughter Revna since his wife left. Never should he leave the lass to starve or worse, for he worships the wee thing. If he ran, he’d take her with him.”

Struan nodded, hiding his satisfaction at being correct about the new kitchen maid’s sire being the trapper. “Perhaps he met a lady who didnae wish to raise the daughter of another.”

“Never, my lord. Dugal yet loved Revna’s mam. Never would he glance at another lady.” The tanner moved a few steps closer, dropping his voice a little as he said, “He told me on the half-moon that he’d been paid handsome for some work, only ’twas used for something bad. Hanging bad, my lord.”

“Och, what could he do but fashion traps and snares?” the steward said, giving him a stern look. “Dinnae spin lies.”

“I speak as I cut hide, sure and true,” the tanner insisted. “Dugal vowed he didnae ken what he did, ’twould be used for evil. I pressed him for details, but he wouldnae say more. He vowed if he told anyone he’d be killed. And then no’ a week after he vanished.” He sniffed. “I reckon him dead by the hand of the maister who paid him to do such work.”

“’Tis all you ken?’ Struan asked, and when the man nodded he regarded the steward. “Pay him three day’s wages, and feed him before he returns to the village.” He waited until the two men left before he regarded the tired-looking laundress. “What shall you tell me of the two maids gone missing?”

She curtseyed again. “I went to their families to ask after them, my lord. They’ve no’ seen either maid since they left the castle. The lassies, they didnae take their leave of their parents, nor pack their belongings. ’Tis as if they’d walked away with but the clothes they wore, and naught else. Their kin reckon they met a rich tinker and run off with him.”

He watched her mouth tighten. “You believe differently.”

“Gildie, she’s five months gone with child, and set to wed the lad who sired her bairn next week,” the laundress said. “Brida just bought new boots and a fine new bodice, only to leave them behind and go in her work gown and shoes. When they left ’twas to collect wild berries up on the slopes. I asked every guard on duty that day, and they all vowed the maids never returned.”

“You believe they were taken?” he asked.