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It was a triumphant Roselyn who emerged into the great hall several minutes later. She had picked her way with care, but the rope offered all the reassurance she needed. Only once did she waver, but held on tight to her new rail and was able to right herself.
“My private stairs bring you out onto the dais where my table is located so ye must remember that if ye decide to wander around. The rail has not yet been installed on the steps down to the main hall but soon it will be safe like the rest. In the meantime, Elspeth has spared Meggie tae act as your guide. Ye like the lass, aye?”
“Oh, yes, very much. Is she here?”
“I shall summon her before I leave. Your other friend is here though.”
“What? Oh… Freya.” Roselyn giggled as the huge head nudged her waist. “Is it you?” She bent to scratch the dog’s wide head. “I hope they have been giving you nice scraps to eat.”
“The beast does well enough. Ah, Meggie, ye ken your new duties, aye?”
Roslyn heard the scampering footsteps as the little maid rushed to join them. “Yes, Laird,” she panted. “I am tae remain at Lady Roselyn’s side at all times and help her tae get to know the castle.”
“Excellent. See that ye do your work with diligence.”
“The entire castle? I am to have the freedom to go where I please?” Roselyn was astonished at this new turn of events.
“I see no need to keep ye confined. ‘Tis not as if ye could escape, is it? Meggie will be at your service. Ask her if ye require anything. And Elspeth too, of course, though she tends to spend her time in the kitchens which are situated below this room. Meggie will show ye the way if ye want to visit her.”
“Thank you.” Roselyn crouched to hug the large dog at her side. “And I have Freya too.”
“Indeed. I must leave ye now as I have tenants to visit an hour’s ride from here an’ I want to be back before nightfall if I can manage it. Enjoy your afternoon, Roselyn.”
“I will. I surely will. Thank you, Blair.”
Chapter Five
What was it about the wench that captivated his imagination? Blair found he was increasingly bested by fantasies in which he visualised doing all manner of things to his lovely little English captive, acts which he knew to be both dishonourable and perhaps downright sinful. No matter, he was unable to exorcise the decadent images from his mind. He shook his head in frustration as he led his destrier back into the stables intending to see to the horse’s needs himself rather than trusting the task to one of the lads. He found the labour therapeutic and it helped to clear his head. Or he generally found it to be so. Not on this occasion though.
He had been so certain of the facts of the matter when he’d ordered the English wench to be brought to Duncleit. He had planned to pursue the bastard who perpetrated the crime against his kin and bring him to justice too, then deal with the pair of them. He intended to deliver a clear lesson for any who thought to attack him or his.
But no longer. His plans for the Earl of Ingram had not altered at all, but as he came to know Roselyn better he was increasingly of the opinion that she was a victim of her brother too. The wench was not entirely without blame, but which of them was, after all?
His clan though, tended to think otherwise. They expected a hanging and he could not entirely blame them. Apart from Meggie and Elspeth they had had no opportunity to come to know Roselyn. His decision to allow her greater freedom was an attempt to counter that. Roselyn was unfailingly pleasant company, sweet and gentle and very, very contrite for her part in the tragedy which had befallen Mortain. By placing her among them he hoped that the rest of his household might soften their attitudes, though it had been three days since he granted her the freedom to roam Duncleit at will and he had yet to see the results. It was early days, he reminded himself, and however charming Roselyn might be, he still believed the corroborative testimony in support of her account would be essential to aid her cause.
He placed a bucket of oats in front of the snorting steed. “Aye, Bartholomew, ye may well paw the earth and complain. Ye’d have a lot more to moan at if ye had my burdens to carry.” He patted the horse’s neck and left the stall. He would see how the girl was doing. Maybe she had succeeded in charming at least some of his surly clan-members. The menfolk should be easy enough to win over, he mused, given the lass was quite lovely to look upon.
Not that this would sway his judgement, nor would her blindness. She did not deserve to hang, he was sure of that, though he had yet to establish the proper extent of her culpability.
His mind set, he strode across the bailey, stopping to exchange greetings with those he passed. Blair prided himself on knowing the given name of all who shared his hall. He was a stern laird when occasion called for it, but for the most part Duncleit was a happy, relaxed place and that was how Blair liked it.
He mounted the front steps and crossed the lobby. His gaze sought out Roselyn and found her at once, on the dais. She turned her head in his direction, as though she were aware of his presence. Perhaps she was, her sight may be gone but he had soon learnt that her other senses were acute. She smiled and took a step toward him, then another.
Blair saw the danger too late. Unknowing how close she was to the edge, she was about to step right off the dais. The drop was almost five feet; she would be injured, perhaps badly. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, then gaped at what happened next. The huge hound, Freya, an animal which as far as he was aware struggled to summon the energy to lumber out into the bailey to take a piss, bounded from the floor of the hall and up onto the dais. In one huge leap the dog shoved Roselyn back from the edge. She herself twisted on impact and tumbled down from the dais as Roselyn staggered back into the lord’s table. Blair covered the length of the great hall at a sprint, but the hound beat him back onto the platform seemingly no worse for the adventure. By the time Blair arrived beside Roselyn she was patting the dog’s head and congratulating the hound on a job well done.
“Are ye hurt, my lady?” Blair reached for her, unthinking and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I thought ye would fall, but—”
“But Freya saved me. Is she not a wonderful helper? I knew she was an intelligent dog, but she is quite magnificent, is she not?”
“Aye, she certainly chose the right moment to leap up onto the dais. You were lucky.”
She shoved out of his embrace.
“Not lucky. I taught her to do that. Her task is to warn me if I step too close to the edge, though she is usually more gentle. She nudges me with her shoulder as a rule.”
“Now Roselyn, I ken that ye like the hound, but don’t be thinking ye can rely upon her. Where is Meggie, for that matter?”
“She went to the kitchens to fetch a mug of mead for me. And my Freya is very reliable. She knows her task. Watch.”
