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"What?"

"I—oh, never mind." He shook his head and kicked his horse forward. After a moment, Deirdre followed.

CHAPTER 37

"Do you want to make your confession?" Jemmy asked coldly. "I'll send the priest."

The prison chamber was foul and dank. Jemmy grimaced as he inhaled the noisome stench of the middens just outside the tower wall. Alistair lay full length on the cold stone bench running the length of one wall. When he sat up the chains around his ankles clattered. He face was drawn with exhaustion and his hair hung tangled about his brow.

"Dinna bother," he said indifferently.

"Talk to him or not, he'll be here before sunset." Jemmy motioned the guard to leave them, adding, "You can go. I'll be but a short time here."

When the door slammed shut, Jemmy shuddered and glanced nervously about the small space. Hiding his discomfort, he leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Alistair asked warily.

"What the devil happened earlier?"

"Why ask me? You were there."

"Oh, so you murdered Brodie Maxwell—backstabbed the man with your own dagger, then stood about waiting to be taken?"

"We all make mistakes."

"You're saying that you did it?" Jemmy asked, amazed.

"I'll no' deny it."

Jemmy sank down on the bench beside Alistair. "Master Kendrick says he was dead at least two hours before noon."

Alistair shrugged, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

"So you waited there the whole morning just so there would be no mistake? Very thoughtful of you."

"Don't do this Jemmy," Alistair said tightly. "Just let it go."

Jemmy rounded on him furiously. "In case you have forgotten, tomorrow morning is my father's funeral mass. God knows we weren't close, but he was my father, and I don't expect it to be pleasant. Once that is finished, I will sit in judgment on you, the very last of my kin. Forgive me for inconveniencing you, Alistair, but I confess to a certain reluctance to order my own foster brother hanged from the neck until he is dead. I need to know the truth and I need to know it now."

He leaned back against the wall, willing himself to calmness. Anger would serve no purpose here. It would only cloud his thinking, which was far too muddled as it was. The only thing he knew for certain was that he had no idea what the hell had happened earlier on Kendrick's Field. And Alistair showed no signs of enlightening him.

"You were frightened to meet Brodie in fair combat," Jemmy began, "so you talked him into meeting you alone, two hours early. I can't wait to hear how you managed that! And then, when the two of you were chatting about the weather, Brodie obligingly turned his back so you could slip in your dagger. Is that how it happened?"

"It does not matter how it happened," Alistair said. "The deed was done."

"Oh, aye, it was done. But who did it?"

Alistair raised his head and Jemmy thought he had never seen such misery in a man's eyes. For the first time, his belief in Alistair's innocence was shaken.

"Jemmy, I ken ye mean well, I ken ye want to help me, but ye cannot. Just walk away now. Please."

His voice broke on the last word and he looked away.

"Very well, Alistair, I'll go. If you can look me in the eye and tell me you did this thing, I'll leave right now."

Alistair turned. His eyes were flat, expressionless. "I did it."