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CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
They spent the night in a ditch by the roadside. Murdina had gathered armfuls of heather, and Kin broke large branches from a tree to cover them so that they made a hollow in the ditch and a tolerable place to spend the remainder of the night. It seemed a long time since they had shared Alcuin’s fish, and Murdina’s stomach was rumbling. But there was nothing to eat, only the water from a spring in the woods to quench their thirst, and when they awoke, the hunger remained.
“We should call at a farm and buy somethin’ to eat,” Murdina said, as the two of them emerged from the ditch at first light.
They had been well hidden there, and though at one point the sound of horses’ hooves had passed them by, no one had discovered the two spies huddled together beneath Kin’s cloak.
“It could be a risk,” Kin replied, but Murdina shook her head.
“And tis’ a risk to go without food. We can hardly make a journey without eatin’ now, can we?” she asked, and reluctantly, he agreed.
They walked on along the road, keeping silent so that they could hear the sound of others traveling north or south. As they rounded a corner, they were surprised by the sight of a farm cart, a horse standing in shafts, its master attempting to fix a broken wheel. He looked up in surprise as they approached, shaking his head, and pointing to a broken spoke.
“Splintered clean away,” he said, sighing.
“Ye will nae repair it alone,” Kin said, adopting his brogue, and the man gave him a withering look.
“Dae ye nae think I have realized that. I shall have to ride the horse ten miles to bring my lads back from the farm to help me,” he said, cursing under his breath.
“But we could help,” Murdina said, and the man looked at her in surprise.
“Ye? What dae ye know about farm carts and spokes?” he asked, and Murdina smiled.
“Ye daenae know who ye are speakin’ to. But we know well enough about a lot of things, daenae we, Kin?” she said, and Kin nodded.
“Aye, we shall fix yer cart–in exchange for a few loaves of the bread I see ye have there. Are ye on yer way to market?” he said, peering down to examine the splintered spoke in the wheel.
“Aye, I was, but I have lost a day of trade because of this, and the bread will nae last,” he said.
“Well then, allow us to help, and ye shall soon be on yer way,” Kin said, and he and Murdina now set about repairing the broken spoke.
Murdina had watched the clansmen in the castle workshop repair damage just like this. Specialist tools were required, but they would be able to shore it up using the small ax the farmer had to cut a length of wood that could be wedged into place. They chose a stout tree, and Kin cut several branches from it, which he then fashioned into spokes, and Murdina provided the measurements.
“And lift now,” Murdina said as they propped up the wheel.
Now, she pulled out the splintered spoke and replaced it with one of the ones they had cut. It fitted almost perfectly and would serve as a repair until the farmer arrived home.
“I must say, ye have done me a great service today. What clan dae ye belong to?” the farmer asked, handing them over three large loaves of bread, along with a bag of apples.
“We are… MacLeods,” Kin replied, and Murdina nodded.
“Journeyin’ south to the Mull of Kilchurn. We have… business there,” she said, and the farmer narrowed his eyes.
“Tis’ a strange business there,” he said, shaking his head.
“What dae ye mean?” Murdina asked, and the man tutted.
“Nae two days ago, riders from the north passed by our farm–two men rode at their head, and they stopped to refresh their horses. They introduced themselves as Murdoch McGill and Iver Doherty. They claimed they were to wed the daughters of the laird. I know little of life outside my own lands–and I care less for it–but somethin’ did nae seem right,” he said, furrowing his brow.
Murdina looked at Kin in alarm. Two days ago would mean they had arrived at her father’s castle already. The wedding may even now be taking place.
“We thank ye for the bread, sir,” Murdina said, and the two of them hurried off, leaving the farmer looking somewhat bewildered.
“But wait… who am I to say has helped me?” he called out.
“Macleods,” Kin called back, “of the noble order of the knot.”
* * *
