Flame by May McGoldrick Page B

warriors and castle workers bent over their
morning meal ceased instantly, and more than a few began to rise
before quickly sitting down again. Many of the gathered throng
likely thought him mad and, as for the rest, he was certain that
they were too afraid to bring any attention to themselves.
    He had certainly created a disturbance in the
middle of the night. Dressed in nothing other than his kilt, Gavin
had marched noisily through the Great Hall, out into the courtyard
and into the South Hall. Sure enough, he realized--along with two
dozen followers--the knave had beaten him down there and hung up
his prize. Gavin had hoisted a ladder onto his shoulder, climbed to
the hearth, and brought down the picture himself. Without a word to
the gaping onlookers, he had stalked angrily back to his chamber
with the painting under his arm.
    This scoundrel had courage, Gavin had to give
him that. To think that this thief was so bold that he didn’t even
see a need to steal in silence! The scurvy knave had been so brazen
that he had even slammed the damn panel on his way out!
    Gavin couldn’t help himself, but he was
starting to like the blackguard!
    As he crossed the room, he swore to himself
that he’d catch the bastard next time. He must be a light-footed
creature, though, to be able to steal into a chamber where Gavin
was sleeping. After all, he’d always prided himself on being a very
light sleeper.
    The Lowlander’s frown deepened as he reached
the table were Edmund and Peter were hunched over their morning
meal. From the smirks the two rogues wore on their faces, it was
obvious they were in a very good humor. And Gavin knew at whose
expense they were so cheerful. Gavin sat himself down beside
them.
    Well, he could fix that, he decided.
    “Well met, lads!” the laird growled in
greeting. “A fine morning, I see.”
    “Aye, m’lord,” Peter replied, brown bread
stuffed in his cheeks.
    A serving boy rushed over and placed a
heaping bowl before the laird. Looking down, Gavin frowned at the
thick mush before glancing over at Peter’s dish of cheese, cold
mutton, and bread. It didn’t matter where they went, the thickset
warrior had a way of getting better food than of the rest of
them.
    “We’ve things to do today,” the Lowlander
announced, looking up into the faces of his two men, “before our
neighbors arrive.”
    “We’ve given instructions to the warriors
manning the walls and stationed those protecting the...”
    “This castle has been unprotected for six
months. If Athol had seriously wanted it...” Gavin shook his head.
“Nay, you two have other duties this morning.”
    The two sat forward attentively. “Peter,
after you’ve filled that barrel-shaped carcass of yours, I want you
to go and fetch Molly, the woman who sees to the house. The two of
you can decide which rooms will be suitable for lodging Athol and
his entourage.”
    “Molly? But, m’lord,” Peter protested. “You
do not really want me traipsing after that old woman? Surely...I
mean, surely she can do that herself? And besides, I’m certain,
m’lord, that Allan...”
    “You will go and help her with this,
Peter!” Gavin growled. “And that is not all I want you to do this
morning. After you are finished with Molly, you’ll go and see
Gibby, the cook, and go over with her--item by item--the meal she
is preparing for supper.”
    Peter was staring at him in shock.. “But,
m’lord, the men say she hates having anyone meddling in her kitchen
affairs. She’s already boxed the ears of Lank Donald, our fletcher.
I am telling you, she is a she-devil. I would sooner face
Torquemada’s ghost than her!”
    Gavin ignored his man’s protests as he poked
at the contents of his bowl. “Just seeing the difference between
what you and I have been served this morning, I would have to say
that you have already found a safe haven in her kitchen.” The laird
reached and took a chunk of brown bread from Peter’s trencher.
“Just continue to use