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“All the same, I must let you get on. In fact, I think I might join the laird and the other guests at the family crypt. Could you direct me there, please?”
She had been feeling just a little guilty at not accompanying Robert, Flora, and Stephen to pay her own respects to the previous earl, even though she had not known him personally. He had been Robert and Flora’s father so was owed the proper acknowledgement.
“’Tis at the other end of the village, m’lady, an annex tae the kirk. Ye just take the lane tae yer left once ye pass o’er the drawbridge, an’ ye cannae miss it. If ye ask at the gate, one o’ the men will see ye safe there.”
“Thank you,” Katherine replied. “I shall not keep you any longer.”
She made her way back to the hall, then hurried upstairs again to fetch her cloak. She considered seeking out Aggie to accompany her, but the girl was nowhere to be seen, and Katherine feared that she may not reach the crypt in time if she delayed her departure any longer. She swung the cloak over her shoulders and set off across the bailey.
The expressions upon the faces of the guards stationed at the gate and along the battlements had not altered since the day before. They ranged from surly, through curious, to downright hostile. Katherine decided not to seek an escort from among them. Instead, she weaved her way through the throng of villagers coming to the castle about their daily business and hurried over the drawbridge. Once across the moat, the crowd thinned to almost nothing since all were coming the opposite way. She took the lane to her left and quickened her steps.
The route ran alongside a fast-flowing river, swollen by the recent heavy rain. It took her past a small mill. This must be where the flour for the castle was ground. The huge oak wheel turned slowly in the flowing water, tumbling white and frothy on its way to the loch half a mile downstream. Had she not been in a hurry, Katherine would have paused to pass the time of day with the miller. As it was, she marched past, resolving to return another day when she had time to stop.
The rooftops of the village came into view. She halted to catch her breath. Three men approached her from the opposite direction, hauling a wooden cart between them. From what she could see, it was piled high with firewood, presumably supplies for the castle. Katherine stepped off the hard-packed earthen track to let them pass.
“Good morning.” She greeted them with a smile.
One of the men screwed up his eyes beneath his grubby hood and peered at her. He nudged the one next to him. “It be ’er,” he muttered. “The English one.”
Her manner of speech must have alerted them, Katherine thought. No doubt she would pick up at least some of the local accent eventually and not stick out so.
“Aye,” his companion agreed. The pair of them turned to exchange a look with the third man who brought up the rear.
Katherine’s neck prickled. She sensed their hostility and edged a fraction further from them, careful not to lose her footing and fall into the river behind her.
The men bent to their task once more, and the cart trundled past. Katherine stepped back onto the track, only to be seized from behind about the waist and lifted from her feet. Before she could let out so much as a yelp, she was flying through the air.
She landed in the river and immediately sank like a stone, weighed down by her woollen skirts and heavy cloak. The ice-cold water closed over her head.
She was going to drown.
Swimming was not a popular pastime among the nobility of Northumbria. The northern shires of England did not boast a climate conducive to such pursuits. Even so, Katherine was able to swim a little. She had learned from her brother when they were both children, at a time when they cared not for the discomfort of being cold and wet. Instinct, long-forgotten skills, and a desperate will to live drove her to fling off her cloak and let it be carried away in the flowing torrent, then kick for the fast-disappearing daylight above her.
Her head broke the surface, but only for a moment or two before she was grabbed by the current and sucked back down. Fighting for her life now, Katherine struggled back to the surface to snatch a few vital gasps of air. The current was incredibly strong. She was swept downstream, the rushing torrent flowing too fast for her to even grab at the clumps of weeds overhanging the banks. She caught a brief glimpse of the three men and their cart perhaps twenty or thirty paces upstream. She had the distinct impression that they were laughing, before she hurtled helplessly around a bend, and they disappeared from sight.
The river tossed her around like a rag doll. Katherine’s attempts to stay afloat were fast becoming more and more feeble. She had already swallowed countless mouthfuls of the murky water. She was exhausted, losing this unequal battle for her life.
She was beaten. She was about to die.
She collided with something in the water. Something large, and solid, something with arms which encircled her waist and halted her headlong, helpless race downstream.
“Be still, Kat. I have ye…”
Robbie!
Even before she could properly comprehend what was happening, he slipped a loop of rope around her, under her arms. It tightened. She was being pulled towards the bank, while Robbie swam beside her, keeping her afloat. When she reached the edge, more strong hands grabbed her and hauled her from the icy water.
Katherine lay coughing and gasping on the grassy bank, taking in the glorious fact that she was still alive.
“They…they tried to…to…” she spluttered.
“Do not try to speak just yet.” Gentle fingers stroked her sodden hair from her face. “Get your breath.”
Katherine opened her eyes to find Flora kneeling at her side. She tried again, desperate to tell her tale.
“Three men. They threw me in.”
“What?” Flora’s eyes widened. “No! Never. Who would do such a thing?”
