Mora almost laughed. "That would mean she would have to go out and find a strange cat, a male cat. Nay. She never goes out unless I can go with her. Or some other person she sees as safe. Doesnae mean she willnae be caught some day."
"Get some rest. I will fetch you a clean shift and then you can sleep. I have a potion to help you if you cannot sleep."
"Nay, I believe I will have little trouble sleeping."
"I will fetch the shift now."
The moment Jolene left, Mora had to grip her hands tightly together to keep herself from massaging, or worse, digging at the pain in her side. At the moment, there was little comfort to find in the knowledge that what Jolene had done would help her. She closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath as she tried to fight the pain.
When Jolene returned, Mora snapped out of a light doze and knew she had been close to going to sleep. Right next to the woman marched Freya. Her cat showed no hint of unease around the woman, and even though Mora told herself it was foolish to trust in an animal's opinion, she did.
She sat up with help from Jolene and hissed with the pain of the movement. Once the shift was on though, and she was able to lie back down, she quickly recovered. Freya leapt up on the bed, avoiding her wounded side, and curled up next to her.
"Do you need a box of dirt for her?"
"Oh, aye, if it is nay too much trouble."
"Well, from all you said, I realized you will not be able to be her guard outside, so it might be best. We had one for Old George when winter came as he loathed the cold, and I quickly got weary of cleaning up messes by the kitchen door. Be right back," she said even as she hurried out the door.
Soon she had all she needed, Jolene even placing a tankard of cider on the table by the bed. The woman promised to let Gybbon know where Mora was and explain that she would not be coming down the stairs soon. Mora curled her arm around her cat, holding her closer to her uninjured side, and closed her eyes.
Gybbon frowned at Jolene when she returned alone. "Where is Mora?"
"She is resting."
"Was it that wound she tried to tell me was just a scratch?"
Jolene sighed and nodded. "Aye, and she will have to rest for a few days if she wants it to heal."
"It was no scratch, was it?"
"No. To be fair, it may have looked like one when she first bandaged it, but something made the small cut widen. She thinks it was when Jester tossed her off. I have cleaned it, stitched it, and put a clean bandage on as well as some healing cream. She will be fine soon. We just have to keep a close watch for a fever but e'en that may not be serious."
"At least she had something to break her fast."
"A full belly can be very helpful in healing. The cat is with her. I did worry it might hurt her wound in some way, but it carefully avoided it. I had Jeannette bring in a box of dirt for the cat as Mora said the animal does not go out unless she has a guard."
"Ye wouldnae either if ye had to fret about even what flies in the air seeing ye as a quick meal."
"Might be why it is so hard for me to find a runt," Jolene murmured.
"That and the fact that many a mama cat allows the runty ones to be pushed aside by the others," said Sigimor. "One of those ugly, hard facts of life."
"Of which there are far too many," said Jolene.
"True, but at least we are in a quiet time, no battles or wars. Havenae e'en had a raid. Men are getting soft," he said with a hint of sadness, but he glanced at his wife as he spoke, and his eyes were full of amusement.
Gybbon decided it was time to talk about something that would draw Sigimor from his game of irritating his wife into yelling at him. "So, what do ye think should be done about her cousin?"
"Kill the murdering bastard," Sigimor replied. "Aye, and as quickly as ye can."
"Sigimor," Jolene said in such a mildly scolding tone Gybbon suspected she agreed with her husband. "Killing is not always the answer."
"Sometimes, lass, it is the only answer. Dinnae forget, the mon now seeks to get his well-bloodied hands on a lad of only seven and make sure he isnae alive long enough to inherit what his poor murdered parents have left him."
"True. I just find it hard to believe anyone would murder a whole family just to have their house and lands, especially when there is a big inheritance coming his way anyway."
"That reasoning is what troubles Mora now and then," Gybbon said. "She cannae understand it, either. In truth, it does make little sense. They are killing people for what is but a small piece of the estate their da holds, and I dinnae believe Robert intends to share any of that with his brothers, either."
Gybbon shook his head over the senselessness of it all and asked Sigimor, "So where is this son ye are so puffed up about? And, come to think of it, where are your lassies?"
"My son is asleep as all smart bairns should be, and my beautiful girls are visiting Ilsa. They do that now and then, so when the illness came I sent them right off to her."
"I hope ye sent her some help to deal with them as weel," Gybbon teased.
"Seven maids," said Jolene. "The ones that often help care for them so they know all their tricks."
Gybbon laughed but then grew serious. "Mora's uncle, the laird and the father to her cousins, had fallen ill. It was soon after that happened that the trouble began."
"She thinks they had a hand in that, does she?" asked Sigimor.
"Aye. It fits, doesnae it? The laird liked her parents a lot. Her father was his youngest brother even though they had a break that ended the closeness they used to have, and the mon never had a problem with what the mon had been given."
"Then Robert decided he wants that piece back and suddenly the laird is near to dying. The mon who was caring for him has also been killed and Robert is blaming Mora. He is claiming she stole his sword and cut the mon down."
"That wee lass?"
"Men are all too quick to believe women are murderous liars." Jolene shook her head. "And if they are led to believe she did it because the mon kenned she was poisoning the laird, something else all men believe women commonly do, then she has to also worry about the sheriff or his men."
"Aye, sadly true. I just wish I kenned a way to find out the fate of her other two brothers. There is nary a male to stand for her now and it would help a great deal if she had one."
"She has you, and a Murray on your side is not a bad thing to have."
"Nay, it isnae," said Sigimor, "and I would stand at her side if it was needed as weel. Mayhap ye ought to get her to Gormfeurach."
"Her parents told her to come shelter with you."
"I ken it, and she is most welcome if that is what she chooses, but right now my keep and, sadly, a lot of my men in it are too sick to be much help."
"The sickness spread so far?"
"Aye. 'Tis why I decided to get the three of us out of there. I was slower to act than I really liked but have been keeping a watch on things. It appears to be passing but they are all weak as babes."
"Then, aye, I will take her to Gormfeurach as soon as we can find the boy."
"That I can help ye with. We will set to it in the morning."
"I will tell Mora."
"Do ye mean to take her with ye?"
"I dinnae really want to, but the boy might come faster if we do take her."
"True. We will see how she fares in the morning." Sigimor stood and grabbed his wife by the hand, tugging her out of her seat.
Gybbon watched them go and a few moments later two women hurried in to clear away the last of the food. He rose and made his way up the stairs. He was just thinking that Sigimor had not told him where he was to sleep when he noticed a door open and, as he looked into the room, saw his belongings dumped on the bed. He was just about to go inside when he heard a soft scratching.
Walking down the hall, he stopped when he saw a tiny gray paw slide out under the door. He opened the door and found Mora whispering to her cat to come back. Once he stepped inside, the cat ran to the bed. Gybbon walked to the side of Mora's bed and looked down at her, then sighed. She would not be going with them in the morning. She was pale but there were hints that she was feeling a bit feverish. There were flags of red in her cheeks and her eyes were half shut and far too bright.
"A scratch?" he drawled as he sat on the edge of her bed.
"Well, that was all it felt like and it wasnae so bad when I looked at it and bandaged it. I blame Jester."
"Why not? I often do. Of course, it wouldnae have been made worse if ye had tended it properly in the beginning."
Mora just rolled her eyes. "It has been weel tended now. Washed, wrapped, and sewn up neatly and had cream put on it."