“Nonetheless, ye snored,” Gib insisted. “Likely, ye can blame them three pots of ale ye drank afore we left Raven’s Law.”
Wat remembered the ale. He should not have drunk so much of it. However, that was not the only error in his hastily conceived plan.
It had seemed so simple then. After spending the previous day at the horse races in Langholm, he and some friends had returned to Raven’s Law, his peel tower in Ettrick Forest, to learn that in his absence, raiders had lifted his entire herd of cattle. They’d also taken a pair of valuable sleuthhounds and seven horses.
“I was right about who stole my beasts,” he muttered.
“Aye, yon devil Murray had them right enough,” Tam agreed. “He still has them, come to that. Mayhap we were a bit hasty, ridin’ out straightaway to raid—”
“To recover what is mine,” Wat interjected.
“Aye, well, that’s as may be,” Tammy said doubtfully. “But yon Murray will no agree that ye had the right to take his beasts home along wi’ yours.”
“Sir Iagan Murray has more kine than any man needs to feed one threaping wife, a pair o’ dour sons, and three o’ the homeliest daughters in Scotland,” Gib said.
“Still, ye canna blame the man for trappin’ us as he did,” Tammy replied. “’Tis only natural he’d want tae keep his own beasts.”
“Nearly half of the beasts he’s got now are mine,” Wat said grimly. “And I don’t want him to keep them. As to my taking his, he can show no proof of that. He and his men rose up out of the heather before we’d touched one of them. Sakes, I should have realized it was too easy to follow those reivers. ’Tis clear enough now that he expected us to and that’s why they were waiting for us.”
“That was clever o’ them, that heather was,” Tammy said. “With all o’ them wearin’ white feathers in their caps as they were, and lyin’ flat, they looked as much like new blooms in the moonlight as the real heather did.”
“Murray kens fine that we’d ha’ taken his kine, though,” Gib said, ignoring the interruption. “Bless us, but anyone would.”
“Even if we had taken them, it was Murray’s fault for forcing me to come here to collect mine,” Wat said.
Tammy laughed. “I’d like t’ be in your pocket when ye explain that to your da’ and the Douglas.”
“It’s what either of them would have done,” Wat retorted.
“Mayhap they would,” Gib said. “But that willna stop them being angry.”
Wat knew Gibbie was right. James Douglas knew his power and did not let anyone forget it. Wat had known him since childhood, and facing him after creating such a predicament for himself was not something he would enjoy. Even so, the earl’s anger would be as nothing compared with his own father’s.
The Laird of Buccleuch was a staunch supporter of James Douglas and would not be pleased to learn that his own son had defied a Douglas order. Just thinking about Buccleuch’s likely reaction made Wat wince.
Then, remembering his present plight, he said with a sigh, “I doubt I’ll have to face either of them. You must know that Murray means to hang us in the morning.”
“He caught us wi’ the goods,” Tammy said. “’Tis his right to hang us.”
“It is, aye, but you’ll admit that it does seem devilish hypocritical,” Wat retorted. “We did nowt but try to put right the wrong he’d done to me, after all.”
“We didna catch him at it, though,” Tam reminded him.
In the ensuing silence, the darkness seemed to thicken and close heavily around them until Gib said abruptly, “D’ye believe in heaven, Wat?”
“Aye, and in hell,” Wat replied. “Don’t you?”
“I do.” Gib paused. “’Tis just that . . .”
“What, Gib?”
“Sithee, me Annie’s in heaven wi’ our wee bairn that the English killed alongside o’ her when they came three years ago. I dinna doubt that Annie’s waiting for me, ye ken, but ’tis likely I’ll no be joining her now, will I?”
“Why not?”
“Yon Murray’s no likely to ha’ a priest at hand to shrive us, is he?”
“He may have a chaplain as the Douglas does,” Wat said. “But if he doesn’t, you’ve led a good life, Gib, and I believe God counts that above all else.”
“Mayhap He does, Wat, but I’ve broken me share o’ His commandments.”
“So have we all,” Tammy muttered. “’Tis nae use to fret about it now.”