He turned to look at her blankly, and then dropped onto the furs and asked, "Tell ye what about her?"
Edith hesitated, unsure herself what she was hoping to learn, but then suggested, "Tell me about yer life ere ye came to Drummond."
She'd meant for him to tell her about his home ere coming to Drummond, but he misunderstood and told her about his more immediate life before arriving here. Grimacing unhappily, he said, "Well, we walked fer a long time. I thought me feet'd fall off we walked so long."
"What about the other castles ye stopped at on the way?" Edith asked. Bessie had told her they'd stopped at every castle between here and their old home in northern England, but no one would take them in.
Ronson peered at her with bewilderment. "There were no other castles, m'lady. None I saw anyway. All there was on the way here were woods and more woods. We did no' even pass anyone else traveling."
"I see," Edith murmured. Bessie had obviously lied. Either the castle they'd come from hadn't been in the north of England as Bessie had said, or they'd stayed off the paths and trails to avoid running into others. That was possible and would have saved them getting robbed or attacked by bandits, but it would have been slower going and had its own dangers. They were lucky they'd avoided being attacked by wild wolves and bears on their way to Drummond.
"Do ye remember how many nights ye slept on the way here, Ronson?" she asked abruptly.
He paused and considered the question, and then shook his head. "Too many to count. Hundreds maybe."
Edith seriously doubted it had been hundreds, but she also didn't think the boy could count yet. Or if he could, he probably couldn't count too high. But his answer told her they must have traveled a good distance.
"Winter had just ended when we started," he added suddenly. "'Twas terrible cold still."
Edith nodded and relaxed a little. Ronson and his grandmother had been traveling quite a while to get to Drummond. Perhaps even as much as a couple of months. That seemed a bit much, but . . . It was late July, however they'd arrived at Drummond in late May. If they started their journey at the end of March . . . She frowned, but supposed they could have been walking that long. Ronson had little legs and was young, his stride would have been much smaller and they would have had to travel much slower than two adults . . . and apparently they'd done so without stopping once at any of the castles or villages along the way.
Mouth tight, she asked, "What did ye eat on the way to Drummond?"
"Gran always went out and hunted up a rabbit or a bird after we stopped fer the day," he said and then added proudly, "She's a fair hand with the bow. So was me ma. Ma used to take me hunting with her. She promised me she'd teach me to use the bow just like Gran taught her, but then she died." Ronson paused briefly, and then as Niels finished dressing and came to join them on the furs, the boy added sadly, "I miss me ma."
"I imagine ye do," Edith said, but asked, "What about the last castle ye lived at ere Drummond? Do ye remember that?"
"Aye." He reached out to pet Laddie when the dog dropped onto the grass beside the furs and was silent for a minute, but then said, "It was okay. We had the nicest cottage in the village, Gran and Ma and me. But Ma was always having to go up to the castle cause the laird wanted her to work. It made Gran curse something awful when he sent his men fer her. She said he was a rapping bastard, or something."
Edith's eyebrows rose. "Do ye mean raping?"
"Aye." Ronson's brow cleared. "That was it. He was a raping bastard."
Edith sat back briefly, and then asked, "What was yer mother's name?"
"Wife," Niels growled under his breath.
"Glynis," Ronson said with a smile. "She was ever so pretty, m'lady. And she was no' always off in the garderobe like Gran. She liked to play with me." He frowned. "At least she did when she was no' too sore."
"Too sore?" she asked, ignoring the scowl Niels was directing at her.
"Aye. Ma was always falling down and bumping into things while working fer the laird and coming back sore and bruised. She could no' play with me then," he said sadly.
"Is that how she died?" Edith asked. "Falling down or bumping into something?"
"Aye, she fell off the cliff," Ronson said unhappily. "'Twas terrible. She must no' have realized how close she was. She just walked right off o' it. I tried to warn her. I shouted and yelled and ran as fast as I could trying to catch up to warn her, but she did no' hear me and I could no' run fast enough."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Ronson," Niels said gently, "But I'm sure she kens ye tried to warn her."
The boy grunted, and began scratching Laddie behind the ear, making the dog's leg start kicking in the air.
Edith watched silently for a minute and then asked, "Is that when ye left?"
"Wife," Niels snapped now, obviously wanting her to stop asking these questions of the boy. Fortunately, Ronson answered anyway.
"Aye. The old laird came down and told Gran we had to leave," he muttered with a scowl, and then said, "But I think he must have meant someone else."
"Meant someone else to leave ye mean?" Edith asked uncertainly.
"Aye. I think he was mixing us up with someone else. He did no' even ken Gran's name. He kept calling her Ealasaid."
Edith stared at Ronson, a sound like rushing water in her ears as she tried to grasp what he'd said. When the sound began to recede, she finally said carefully, "Lad, did ye say he called her Ealasaid?"
"Aye." Ronson scowled. "She was so angry at him I do no' think she even noticed. But I did, and after he left I tried to tell her he was confused and she should go up to the castle and explain it to him, but Gran just told me to hush and go to bed and sleep, we were leaving at first light."
Ronson grimaced and admitted, "I think mayhap she was a bit overset by it all, because while she packed she kept muttering about going home, but we were home," he said earnestly and then heaved out another breath. "Anyway, then we left and walked all the way here, and it was hard, m'lady. The hardest thing I've done in me whole life. Sometimes I fell asleep on me feet and woke up to find Gran carrying me. I was ever so glad when we got here and ye let us stay."
Edith smiled crookedly, but had no idea what to say to that. She liked Ronson a great deal, but at that moment she couldn't honestly say she was glad that he and his grandmother had come to Drummond and that she'd let them stay. In that moment, she was quite sure it had been the biggest mistake of her life.
"Did ye--" she began.
"Ronson," Niels interrupted her grimly. "I need to have a word with me wife. We'll only be over there by the horse. Stay here until we return."
"Aye, m'laird," Ronson said through a yawn, and then flopped onto his back on the furs to stare up at the sky overhead.
Chapter 16
Edith eyed Niels with curiosity as he led her to his mount. He seemed terribly angry, and she got the feeling it was with her, though she couldn't imagine why. Until they reached his horse and he turned on her to demand in a growl, "What are ye doing making the lad talk about such upsetting matters?"
"Did ye hear what he said?" Edith asked with amazement, for while he'd missed the part about Bessie being so handy with a bow and arrow, he'd been there when the boy had said the names Ealasaid and Glynis.
"Aye. His poor mother was most like raped by their last laird and driven to take her own life. The old bastard then threw out Ronson and his poor old grandmother and they walked fer what must have been weeks to get here to Drummond."
"And the names?" she asked.
Her question brought him up short, and Niels frowned and asked, "What names?"
Edith gave a huff of impatience. "His mother for one."
Niels's mouth twisted and he glanced down briefly, obviously trying to recall. Finally, he shrugged and said, "Glenna?"
"Glynis," she corrected. "Me father's sisters' names were Glynis and Ealasaid," she reminded him.
"Oh . . . aye," he said finally, and glanced back to Ronson with a frown. "But Ronson's grandmo
ther's name is Bessie."
"Bessie is what ye call a child or an old woman named Elizabeth," she pointed out patiently. "And Elizabeth is English fer--"
"Ealasaid," he finished for her with realization.
"Aye. Which is what the old laird called her," Edith reminded him and turned to peer at the boy. His eyes were closed now, though his foot was wagging, so she knew he was awake.
"And yer father's name was Ronald," Niels murmured, following her gaze to Ronson.
"And he said his grandmother kept muttering about going home," Edith added grimly.
"Aye." He stared at Ronson briefly and then shook his head. "But ye said yer father's sisters were dead."
"That is what I was told," Edith said solemnly.
"So . . . could this all be a strange coincidence?" he asked doubtfully.
Edith shook her head. "Ronson has complained to me a time or two about how much time his grandmother spends in the garderobes. He said she spends the better part o' the night in there," she told him quietly. "I just assumed it was a result o' age. But when we were coming out o' the loch today, I commented on how his gran would be pleased that he was so clean, and he mentioned that she'd told him to go out and play on her way into the garderobe and when he returned from playing, she near had a fit when she came out o' the garderobe and saw him."
Niels shook his head, obviously not sure what that had to do with anything.
"When I came below after leaving ye and the men to search the bedchambers and tunnels, the hall was nearly empty. There were the two guards at the kitchen door, and perhaps a handful o' servants at the tables including Moibeal, but Ronson and Laddie were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Bessie."
"Ronson was probably already out in the bailey playing with Laddie, and Bessie was in the garderobe," he said easily.
"Aye, that's what ye'd think, but the minute I got below I checked each o' the garderobes in search o' the hidden entrance Tormod mentioned and each one was empty."
Niels stilled. "She could no' have been in the kitchen."
"Nay. The guards would no' have allowed her past. And she could no' have gone above stairs, the men were guarding the landing and hallway to prevent it," she pointed out.
"Ye think she kens about the passages because Bessie is yer father's sister Ealasaid and that Ronson's mother was not her daughter, but her sister Glynis," he reasoned slowly.
"Nay. I suspect Bessie is Ealasaid, and that Ronson's mother really was Bessie's daughter, but she named her Glynis after her sister. They were quite close apparently."
Niels nodded, and then said, "And ye think the boy was named after yer father?"
Edith nodded.
"But ye think Bessie has been sneaking through the passages up to yer father's room and sleeping there?"
"I think she's been doing more than that," Edith said quietly. "I gather me father's mother was very skilled with healing and poisons and was teaching Ealasaid and Glynis everything she knew ere they all died. Or ere they supposedly died," she added dryly.
"So, she could have kenned enough about weeds to poison everyone," Niels murmured, and then his mouth tightened and he added, "And her being skilled with healing means she'd have kenned where the heart was and the best way to stab to stop it too."
Edith nodded. "I ken the men want to blame Effie fer all that has happened here, but as I told Rory, Effie--"
"Had palsy in her hands and arms and could no' aim straight. Aye, he told us when we found the bow and poisons under the bed," Niels admitted and explained, "We had already decided that Effie could no' be the culprit before we got word she was dead. But we still had no clue who it could be, so we decided to pretend we believed it in the hopes that the real culprit would relax enough to make a mistake as well as perhaps fall into the trap we planned."
"What trap?" she asked with interest.
"The one where we leave yer drink alone in the chamber where Alick is hiding and can witness yer would-be murderer dousing it," he said and then asked, "Did ye no' notice that Alick did no' come down with the rest o' us? No one kens he's here but the two guards in the hall and they've been sworn to secrecy."
"Oh." She nodded, recalling the plan he'd mentioned that morning. It seemed so far away now.
"How old would yer aunt be were she still alive?" Niels asked suddenly.
"Ealasaid and Glynis were seven and ten years younger than me father," she said and then explained, "Grandmother lost several bairns after Father before Ealasaid was born."
Niels shook his head with disappointment at this news. "Bessie is ancient, Edith. She could no' be yer father's sister. She's also deaf as can be, hunched with age and . . ." He shook his head again. "I'm no' sure she could manage a bow and arrow any better than Effie would have."
"Ronson said she is good with a bow and arrow and hunted up their food every night on the way to Drummond," Edith told him solemnly, and then frowned and said, "And she . . ."
"What?" he asked when she hesitated.
"Well, she does seem terribly old, but Ronson said she carried him on the walk here. And while she seems deaf as a wooden post, and blind too most o' the time, she's never had a problem threading her needles, and there are times she's heard me mutter things under me breath that she should no' have been able to were she as deaf as she often seems to be."
"Ye think she's feigning being that old," he said with realization.
Edith nodded. "I think we need to talk to her, husband."
"Wife, she's no' going to just admit to everything. 'Twould mean her hanging fer murder," Niels pointed out.
"Aye." Frowning, she glanced away, trying to figure out how to prove what she suspected was true. Or prove it wasn't true.
"We could test her," Niels said suddenly.
"How?" Edith asked at once.
He thought briefly and then suggested, "Throw something at her and see if she is quick enough to prevent it hitting her. Or we ride back and you run inside and say Ronson has been hurt something terrible and see if she moves more swiftly to get outside to him than she should."
"That might work," she said with a slow smile. "That last one especially. Whatever else is true about her, she does seem to love Ronson."
"Aye. And if that does no' work, we'll chain her up in the oubliette and make her tell us the truth," Niels decided grimly, and then caught her by the waist and lifted her up in the saddle. The moment she was settled, he turned and shouted, "Ronson! Come! We're leaving."
Edith glanced around sharply at that, and quickly shouted, "Nay!"
Ronson paused, halfway to his feet and then straightened uncertainly and peered from her to Niels.
"Stay there," she said, and quickly dismounted again as Niels turned to her in question. He was quick enough to catch her by the waist and ease her to the ground, and Edith murmured a "thank ye," and then turned toward him.
"I thought ye wanted to talk to Bessie?" he said once she was facing him.
"Aye, but we can no' take Ronson back for it. She's his grandmother," she said anxiously. "'Twould be terribly upsetting to him, especially if we end up having her dragged away to the oubliette by the soldiers."
"Aye, I suppose ye're right," Niels murmured, and then frowned. "But I do no' like the idea o' his being left here on his own. Even with Laddie."
"Nay," Edith agreed. "So ye'll just have to stay here with him while I go question her."
"The hell I will," Niels said at once, his voice just this side of a roar. "If anyone is staying here with the boy, 'tis you."
Edith narrowed her eyes grimly and her chin came up. "'Tis me father, brothers and uncle that she killed. I want to be there when she is questioned."
Niels ran a hand around his neck and scowled briefly, but then stilled and lowered his hand. "All right. I'll no' talk to her until ye're there. I'll ride back to the castle, find Bessie and quietly escort her down to the oubliette. I'll lock her up in one o' the cells down there and then ride right back to get the two o' ye. That way Ronson'll no' see
anything to alarm him, and ye'll get to question her with me."
Edith considered the suggestion slowly and then nodded her head. "But promise me ye'll take Tormod and yer brothers with ye when ye look fer Bessie and lock her up."
"I can handle one little old woman, wife," he said stiffly.
"She's killed a lot o' people, husband. I'd rather ye were no' counted among their number. So promise me," she insisted.
"Aye, fine," Niels said with exasperation. "I'll take me brothers and Tormod with me to look fer her."
"Thank ye," Edith whispered.
Nodding, he turned toward his horse and then paused and swung back, removing his sword as he did. "Take this."
Edith accepted the weapon, but frowned. "What if ye need it?"
"I'll be riding fast both ways, Edith. I'll no' need it. But I do no' like leaving ye out here alone and unarmed . . . even fer the short while I expect to be gone."
"I'm never unarmed, husband, I carry me sgian-dubh at all times," Edith reminded him solemnly, and then added, "Besides, I'm hardly alone. I'll have Laddie and Ronson with me, and we've often come here together without coming to harm."
"Just hold on to me sword," Niels ordered, and then bent to press a quick kiss to her lips before finally mounting his beast. Glancing down at her then, he shook his head. "I do no' like leaving ye here."
"I'll be fine," she insisted. "Just hurry."
"Aye," he sighed, and then nodded one last time and urged his horse away.
Edith watched him until he disappeared into the trees and then turned to walk back to the furs. Ronson was lying down again with his eyes closed, she saw, and Laddie had snuck onto the furs to curl up next to him. She considered prodding the dog and making him get off the furs, but it looked to her like Ronson had dozed off and she didn't want to risk waking the boy. Leaving the dog alone, she settled on the fur next to the pair, laid her husband's sword beside her and eyed the boy sadly.
Ronson was a good lad, and for his sake she almost hoped she was wrong about his grandmother being behind the deaths at Drummond. But Edith suspected she wasn't. Although, what she thought that she'd learned brought up more questions than answers. If Bessie was Ealasaid still alive, why had her father been told she was dead? Had any of them died? Were Glynis and their mother still alive? Probably not the mother now, she acknowledged. And had her father even really been told Ealasaid and the others were dead? Edith wanted to believe he wouldn't have lied about something like that, but after everything that had happened, she didn't know what to think.