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And then there was the other part of it . . . if Bessie was Ealasaid, and her father had been as close to his sisters as her mother had claimed, how had he not recognized her when she came to Drummond? More importantly, why would she kill him?
Edith was lost in such thoughts when Laddie suddenly lunged from the furs, barking and making a beeline for the woods on the edge of the clearing across from her.
"Laddie!" Ronson cried sleepily, on his feet before he was even quite awake. "Come back."
"Ronson, no!" Edith shouted, and tried to catch his arm, but the boy was almost as quick as the dog and was off across the clearing before she could stop him. Cursing, she stood to hurry after him, but paused abruptly after only a couple of steps when she heard Ronson cry, "Gran! What are ye doing here?"
"I just wanted to be sure ye washed behind yer ears."
Frozen to the spot, Edith heard that response and then backed slowly to the furs and bent to pick up the sword by its hilt. Gripping it tightly, she watched the woods, simply waiting, and then tensed further when Ronson led his grandmother out of the trees and toward her with Laddie nipping at their heels.
To say that Ronson's grandmother looked vexed was something of an understatement. She was eyeing Laddie like she'd like to kill and skin the poor beast, Edith noticed. More importantly, in her vexation, she was walking straight and at a normal pace, rather than in the slow, hunched-over manner she usually used. Even as Edith noted that, the woman began to slouch and lean forward, her pace slowing. She also changed her expression to a more servile attitude as she turned her attention to Edith.
"Oh, m'lady. 'Twas such a long walk to get out here," she said waving her hand before her face as if she felt quite faint from the exertion. As well she should. This spot was a good distance from the keep. Too far for her to have walked here in the time since Edith, Niels and Ronson had left the keep. She must have a horse somewhere nearby, Edith thought to herself.
"Laddie!" Ronson roared, releasing his grandmother's hand, and charging after the dog when he suddenly raced off into the woods.
While Bessie frowned after the boy, Edith never took her eyes from the woman. As long as Ronson stayed close to Laddie, he should be fine. She, on the other hand, was in a pretty tricky situation. The woman had come out here to kill her, she was sure. The question was whether she'd planned to do it in front of her grandson and hope he wouldn't tell anyone, or had planned something else. Since she should know that Niels had left with them, the most likely approach would have been for her to shoot arrows at them from the cover of the trees so that Ronson had to witness the deaths, but not who caused it, she thought, and asked, "Where's yer bow and arrows, Ealasaid?"
"Where's me--?" the older woman began with feigned confusion, and then paused abruptly. Eyes narrowing, she asked softly, "What did ye call me, m'lady?"
"Ealasaid," Edith repeated quietly and then raised her eyebrows. "It's yer name, is it no'? Ealasaid Drummond. Sister o' one Glynis and mother to another. Sister to me father, as well as his murderer."
The woman eyed her for a moment, and then gave up her hunched stance and straightened, her mouth compressing.
"I presume ye came to kill Niels and me, and brought yer bow to do it," Edith said when the woman just stared at her. "Right in front o' yer grandson, too," she added grimly. "That would have been cruel."
"Aye." Bessie nodded solemnly. "It bothered me to have to do it in front o' him, but it needs doing. And I will no' let him see me do it. In fact, that's why I do no' have me bow now. The minute the dog came running and I heard Ronson chasing after him, I hid me bow and quiver under a bush."
Edith felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She'd sorted it out and had thought she knew what was what, but finding out she was right was different than suspecting she was. And it appeared the woman still intended to kill her. "Why?"
The question slid out unbidden, and then just hung there in the air between them for a moment before Bessie snapped, "Why do ye think?"
"I really have no idea," Edith admitted. "Until today I thought every last member o' me family was dead and ye were just some old woman trying to look after her grandson. Now I find out the aunt I thought died before I was even born is alive and behind the murder o' the rest o' me family."
"Is that what yer father told ye? That I was dead?" she asked with a hard laugh.
"Nay, me mother did," Edith said mildly. "The subject upset me father too much to talk about it."
"I bet it did," Bessie said with cold sarcasm and then held her arms out and said, "Well, ye can see that was a lie. I'm alive."
"Aye," Edith agreed. "So then are Glynis and yer mother alive still too?"
"What?" she asked with surprise. "Nay. O' course, no'. They died from the sweating sickness near to thirty years ago. Just before me father threw me out like I was rubbish and told me never to return."
"Me father was told ye died with Glynis and yer mother," Edith said solemnly.
"Aye. Well, I would no' doubt it. Our father was enough o' a bastard to do that. But I do no' believe fer a minute that someone else here did no' tell Ronald the truth in private afterward. He must have kenned."
"If that were true he would have come to find ye like he did Cawley after his father died," Edith said with certainty.
Bessie scowled at the suggestion and snapped, "Where's that husband o' yers?"
"By now he should have been back at the castle fer quite a while. Certainly long enough to have told everyone who ye really are and that ye're the one behind so many deaths. No doubt they're now all searching the bailey and keep fer ye and trying to decide if ye should be hanged, or just left to rot in the oubliette."
Bessie closed her eyes briefly in defeat, and then opened them again and glanced around as Ronson came running back into the clearing and hurried excitedly to them with Laddie on his heels.
"Look what Laddie found, m'lady. A bow and quiver. And look, they are no' broken or anything. Are they no' fine?"
"Aye, Ronson, very fine," Edith agreed, never taking her eyes off his grandmother.
"Do ye think I could have it fer me own?" he asked hopefully. "It might have been Lonnie's and his family may want it. Maybe I--"
"I'm quite sure 'tis no' Lonnie's," Edith assured him and then, arching an eyebrow at Bessie, said, "If yer grandmother says 'tis all right, then aye, ye can have them."
"Gran?" Ronson asked, hurrying to her. "Can I? I've always wanted a bow o' me own. It's all I've wanted me whole life. Can I have it?"
Bessie peered at him sadly and then nodded. Voice gruff, she said, "Aye. 'Tis yers, lad. Now go practice on that tree down by the water, and let us talk."
"Come on, Laddie," Ronson cried excitedly.
"Be careful ye do no' shoot yerself in the foot," Bessie called out. "And do no' shoot the dog either."
"Aye, Gran," he called back happily.
Sighing, Bessie peered back to Edith and then raised an eyebrow in question. "What now?"
"Now ye answer me questions," Edith said solemnly.
Bessie's eyes narrowed. "What questions?"
Edith hesitated, and then said, "Ye were thirteen when ye were supposed to have died and that was nearly thirty years ago."
"Aye."
"So, ye're forty-two or three?"
"Forty-two."
Edith nodded and then asked, "How did ye make yerself look so old?"
