As she rode along, she took out the scrap of paper she had written all the directions she had gotten. It had been a long, slow process to gather the information she needed, and the need to be secretive had worn on her. The slow process of getting a little piece of information from each one she had a talk with had also been irritating, but she had finally gotten enough.
Mora wondered why the men had not heartily complained or even mutinied when they had been made to take such a long, winding route home while toting her, Andrew, and a cat in a cart pulled by sturdy ponies. If they had gone the straight route they could have done it in a day, as Geordie had said. She had not realized her family had lived so near to so many clans.
In the hope of remaining unseen, she kept off to the side of the path, using the trees and shadows to hide her. She could only pray no one from Glencullaich or Dubheidland was out for a ride. As she passed by a lot of open land on the other side of the small, rutted road, she wondered if that was the land Harcourt and Gybbon had discussed. It was beautiful and a nice manor would look equally as beautiful set in there. If she got back to Glenfeurach she would have to tell Gybbon.
Nibbling on a cake, she decided riding slowly along was enjoyable. Avoiding a cairn that she suspected was a boundary marker, she noted that she was coming to a building site. Not seeing anything to indicate any of the workers were around, she trotted by. What little was there suggested someone was having a small church built. She grinned; putting one of them between two large keeps and a short ride to two others told her someone hoped to tempt some of the guard to attend services. It was the only explanation for why it was not being built in the village, the more usual choice for a church.
It was growing late, the light failing by the time she reached the trail she needed to follow. She was not surprised Geordie had known exactly how to reach the Ogilvy keep as the men had done a lot of complaining about the habit of theft the clan had suddenly developed. It appeared Robert was already taking control, and Mora worried about how ill her uncle had grown. She wondered if she should go back home, then gritted her teeth and turned down the trail by the cairn and the crooked rowan tree.
For just a moment, she wished her brothers were with her. She could almost see the three of them riding up to the keep, perhaps with a small force of Murrays and Camerons behind them. It was a splendid thought, but she shook it away. She fixed her eyes on the large stone keep in the distance and rode determinedly toward it, knowing that her only shield was that she was a woman and the laird's niece.
When she reached the keep the gates were wide open, which struck her as odd for they should be shutting them at this late time of the day. As she rode through them, a man ran up to take her reins, then held out his hand to assist her in dismounting. She was glad of the aid when she was finally standing on the ground for it took a moment for her legs to cooperate. Looking at the man, she suddenly recognized him and smiled.
"Greetings, Manus," she said, wondering at his dark frown and noticing how he kept casting worried looks at the other men. "Something wrong? Is the laird worse?"
"Nay, lass. He isnae hale but he is awake and can move about with aid. Laird Cameron's English wife came to tend him and he has improved every day since then." He handed her horse over to a stable boy.
"Oh, good. I have come to speak to him."
He sighed. "This isnae a safe place for ye now, lass. Half the fools here believe ye killed Old William and have been poisoning the laird. About all they dinnae believe is that ye stole Robert's sword. Fool still has it."
"Do ye believe it?"
Manus leaned closer. "Nary a word but things are wrong here, lass. 'Tis a bad time for ye to come for a visit."
"I have to. I have to make Uncle listen to me. Andrew and I are all that is left."
"All? Ye had twa other brothers."
"They went to France to fight for coin." She ignored Manus's swearing. "We havenae had a word of their fate in about three years. Robert strongly implied he kenned they would ne'er be coming home."
"Ye talked to Robert and still live?"
"Weel, I ran and got Andrew away. We are now with the Murrays. Laird Cameron helped us, too." Mora was not sure why that news was making him more nervous. "I have to talk to the laird. Nay, to my uncle. I have to get him to see what is happening."
"I will let ye talk to him. Just hope I can get ye out safely," he muttered.
She had to move fast to keep up with his long strides. He marched to the keep all the while keeping his men back with a fierce look or a flick of his hand. Mora did not understand why all the men glared at her. How could they believe Robert? How could they believe she had done the things Robert tried to blame on her?
They went into the hall and she saw her uncle. He sat at the head of the table and looked old and haggard. The poison had drained him of vigor. She prayed it had not also drained him of sense.
"What is she doing here?" her uncle bellowed, then fell into a fit of coughing. "Lock her up," he demanded when he stopped.
Manus released her but stayed close when she moved to hurry to her uncle. When the man looked at her, she hastily stepped back. There was such fury and hatred in his eyes she felt stung by it. This was definitely not going to go as she had hoped, and suddenly she wished with all her heart that she was back at Gormfeurach with Gybbon.
"I have come to plead my innocence of all the sins your son tries to blame me for. To tell ye the truth of what has been happening."
"Have ye-or have ye come to make sure there is enough left to finish me with your foul poison?"
"How would I have gotten in to do that? To do anything to poison you? Have your men seen me about the place? Have the women or lassies in the kitchens e'er seen me in there? Have ye e'en asked? How did I do it?"
"Old William kenned it, which is why ye killed him."
"With Robert's sword. Aye, he told me at the same time he told me he had the blood of my parents on his hands."
"David and Rona are dead?"
"Aye, Robert killed them as they came home from market. No one told ye?"
"Robert probably felt I was too weak for such sad news."
Mora doubted that. If Robert had thought it would take his father off sooner than the poison he would have told him immediately. The man did look sad though, so she held her tongue.
"And then ye came and killed William with Robert's sword. Did ye think he had done it?"
"Nay, not him but Robert. And why does he still have the sword if I stole it?"
"Ye dropped it as ye ran."
"Ran from where?"
"From the ledger room where ye killed Old William!"
"The room just down the hall? And I ran down this hall yet no one saw me? None heard me drop the sword on the stone? Ye truly think"-she held up her arm-"that this wee bird arm could pick up a mon's sword and use it with enough strength and skill to kill Old William?" She saw a glimpse of sadness and confusion on his face, but then his expression quickly returned to one of anger.
"Manus, why havenae ye put this lass in the dungeon?"
"Uncle! Listen to me. Think on what I say!" She felt Manus grasp her arm and her heart sank.
"Nay! Ye will just lie. Like your mother! I told David nay to wed her but he wouldnae listen to me. Married the ruined wench and turned his back on me. Fool. Now he is dead, too. Get her out of here, Manus. Get her out."
"Come along, lass." Manus tugged her out of the hall, but she noticed the men in the hall would not look at her. She decided they were beginning to see the truth, see at least some of the game Robert was playing. There was also something about her mother and father's past that was causing her further trouble, because it still gnawed at the sick laird.
A plump woman ran up to walk on her other side as Manus led Mora down to the dungeon. She wondered what Hilda, Manus's wife, wanted, and then the woman said, "Manus, ye cannae do this."
"I have to do it and I am going to. And ye are going to see that she has everything she needs." Manus looked at Mora. "I am sorry, lass, but I am nay going to die for ye and that is just what I will do if I dinnae lock ye up."
"'Tis all right, Manus. I would ne'er ask it of ye. He is mad, isnae he?"
"A wee bit, I am thinking. Gets lost in bad memories, too. He willnae face the truth about Robert. Ne'er has."
"Ye think he already kens the truth?"
"Oh, aye," said Hilda, "but what mon wishes to face the fact that his firstborn son is naught but a killer and a brute or is the verra one trying to kill him? I worry for the other lads now that their da is sunk in his own misery."