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They walked on in silence for much of the day. Kin was lost in thought, and Murdina followed behind him, unsure how to help him in this strange melancholy. It was yet another reminder of the fact that she knew next to nothing about him. She could not draw on his past experiences or speak of what she knew about him–she knew nothing, and in knowing nothing, she became all the more aware of the possibility that what he said might be true. If he remembered he was not who he believed, the consequences could be disastrous.
* * *
“There are the lights of a settlement up ahead–I can see a fire burning and windows lit by candles,” Murdina said, pointing up ahead.
They had walked through the sand dunes for many miles, and Murdina was growing tired. There had been little to eat throughout the day–only foraged berries and nuts–and her stomach was rumbling.
“Do you know where we are? Might this place be where we find a boat to take us to the island?” Kin replied, and Murdina nodded.
“I think this must be Lerwise. Tis’ a small fishin’ village, though it lies beyond my father’s jurisdiction. These lands are those of the MacGlens, and I doubt they would take kindly to my father’s men ridin’ over their lands, even though a peace exists between our peoples,” Murdina replied.
“Then we should risk seein’ if we might find a bed for the night and somethin’ to eat,” Kin said, and Murdina was so hungry that she gladly agreed to the suggestion.
The path now emerged from the dunes and led across a causeway, past several small cottages and onto a wide street track leading down to the harborside. There was an inn, and having agreed to call themselves “Macleod”–a married couple traveling to Mull to visit family–they made their way inside, having tied the pony to a tethering post by the stables.
“Stay close to me,” Kin whispered.
The taproom was quiet, with only a few men sitting drinking in a far corner, their appearance distorted by the plumes of pipe smoke rising around them. The landlord looked up from behind the counter and nodded.
“Can I help ye?” he asked.
“Aye, my name is Macleod, and my wife and I are seekin’ lodgin’ for the night,” Kin said, and Murdina was astonished at the near-perfect brogue he now adopted.
“A bed for the night? The inn is full, but ye can sleep in the stables for two pennies,” the landlord replied.
Kin glanced at Murdina, who nodded. She would gladly have slept anywhere that night, tiredness overwhelming her.
“Aye, that will dae. And might we trouble ye further for somethin’ to eat and drink?” Kin asked.
“I can give ye some bread and cheese, some apples, a glass of ale,” the landlord said, and Kin nodded.
“That will dae very nicely,” he replied as Murdina brought out her purse of coins and handed it to him.
“Yer woman controls yer purse strings, does she?” the landlord said, raising his eyebrow, but Kin returned an immediate reply.
“Tis’ the man who will be worse treated by bandits on the road than his wife. She keeps my money hidden about her person, and we have found it to be beneficial,” he replied, and the landlord laughed.
“The wise man gives his wife the purse–I like that,” he said, and he beckoned for them to follow him.
He led them from the taproom and into the yard behind the inn. Kin untied the pony from its tether, leading it across to the stables, the open door of which the landlord now stood beside.
“With the horses?” Murdina said, and the landlord nodded.
“They are placid creatures. Sleep at the far end, tis’ dry and warm. I will bring ye somethin’ to eat,” he said, pointing them inside.
An oil lamp hung on the far wall, casting flickering shadows over the stable bays, in which several horses sat or stood among the piles of hay. One of them snorted loudly as Murdina and Kin passed by, bucking its head and neighing.
“Nae, all of them are placid,” Kin remarked, and Murdina smiled.
She had always loved horses, and though a stable was very different from what she was used to, she felt at home there, safe and hidden from prying eyes.
“Ye daenae have to keep up that pretense when we are alone,” Murdina said, laughing at the sound of his brogue.
“What pretense? I cannae let it slip, and nor can we allow our story be known,” he replied.
Murdina nodded. It was a sensible precaution, one she hoped would be enough to persuade any casual enquirers as to who was sleeping in the stables of the inn. She imagined what her father would say if he knew she was at that moment bedding down with his former prisoner in a stable, many miles to the north.
“It comes naturally to ye–as though it were yer own,” Murdina remarked, but Kin only shook his head before undoing the straps on their packs and removing them from the pony’s back.
