Page 14 of The Falcon Laird

“Pardon, my lords,” said a soft voice nearby.

Startled, they turned. From the dark wedge of shadow beneath the tower, the rotund form of a woman stepped forward. She carried blankets in her arms.

“Sirs, do ye mean to help the Scottish lady?” she whispered.

“Who are you?” Gavin asked. She was a young woman wearing the sturdy, plain garments of a servant. “Do you work at the castle?”

“Aye, serving in the king’s household for meals and a bed while I wait on the king to decide on my petition for dower land to come to me as a widow. I am Dominy of Averoe, widow to an English knight. If ye mean to make a rescue, let me help, my lord. Please. I have been caring for the Scottish lady. She is ill and desperately needs help.”

Gavin glanced at his uncle. John frowned, unwilling to involve the woman in their venture.

“We need to remove her tonight,” Gavin murmured.

The woman nodded. “I can help, my lord. Where would ye take her? She needs a hospital.”

“We mean to take her to a convent. They might have a hospital,” John said. “Be gone, lass.”

“But there are no convents within two days’ ride of here,” she said. “The English have closed most of them. I know of a monastery a few hours’ ride into Scotland. It has a good infirmary. They are sympathetic to both Scots and Englishthere.” She looked over her shoulder. “We must hurry. I have an idea, my lords. Let me go speak to the guard.”

Without waiting for their approval, she hurried along the wall walk. Gavin exchanged a glance with John. “She is decisive. I hope she has good judgment as well as boldness.”

John rolled his eyes. “We do not need her help.”

“Thomas,” the girl called. “Let me in to see the lady, then.”

The guard strolled toward her. “Dominy! Back again? You just gave her soup! Why not tend to me this time?” He grinned.

“Mayhap later. Do let me in there. I brought the lady some blankets against the cold.”

“Blankets and a roaring brazier. Wish I had such comfort from you at night,” Thomas said as he unlocked the door. “You are not permitted to speak to her.”

“I will if I want,” Dominy said. The guard stepped back as Dominy climbed in with the stack of blankets. A few moments of silence passed. Then Dominy let out a shriek.

“Thomas!” she cried. “Oh, dear saints!”

“What is it?”

“God help us! The lady is dead!”

“Dead!” Thomas rushed forward. “What was in that soup?”

Listening, deeply concerned, Gavin began to approach the cage, John just behind him.

“Oh God! Lady Christian! My lady!” the woman cried.

“You are not to speak to her!” Thoms leaned into the cage.

“Idiot! She is dead! Oh God above!”

“Sweet Christ,” Gavin muttered. “Is there a problem here, sergeant?”

Thomas, his upper body wedged in the cage opening, turned awkwardly. “My lord. The lady seems to have died!”

“Oh, aye,” Dominy wailed, peering around Thomas’ shoulder to look at him. She beckoned in agitation. “She has died.”She shoved Thomas aside roughly. “Get back, man. Could be plague!”

The guard stepped back in a panic and Gavin came forward, leaning into the narrow opening. The slight girl lay utterly still, curled on the bottom of the cage. Hesitating, he hoped Dominy had only created a ruse. But he knew very well the girl could have died.

“She surely looks—”