Chapter Three

L eaving her mother and aunt sleeping, Sencha hurried from the bedchamber hoping to catch Knox and ask questions about what he’d discovered the day before.

If not for the fact he looked barely able to remain upright the night before, she would have asked that they discuss all that had occurred on his trip to the fishing huts. There was so much she was discovering about Knox. His caring way and the fact that he was the only one who fought for her uncle. Of course Alexander had to remain impartial, but he had to ken that her uncle would never do something like this.

Already, her aunt and mother had pleaded with him to see the truth and to be fair about the entire situation. According to her mother, he’d been understanding, but at the same time had explained he had to hear all sides before deciding. It was also the council who had to be convinced, as he and the council were to be united in what they considered to be the truth.

Despite the early hour, people who’d slept on the floor of the great room were rousing, and servants meandered about lighting lanterns and starting their tasks.

Sencha went to a young man who added wood to a stack by the hearth and inquired if he’d seen Knox. The young man informed her the guards met at that hour on the open field just outside the gates adding that Knox and the archers went to archery practice straight after.

Gazing toward the corridor that led to where her uncle was held, she considered asking to see him. But it was too early, and he probably still slept. Besides, it was best to speak to him once she had information to hopefully lift his spirits.

Outside the morning air remained chilly, the skies above gray and cloudy. There was more activity in the courtyard. Servants carried pails from the well, horses were led from the stables, and men stood around a bonfire talking.

Making her way to the gates, she stood there looking toward the field where about twenty men stood. They formed a formidable sight, with either quivers and bows, or swords strapped to their battle-honed bodies. Each man wore a stoic expression as they listened to the men who stood before them.

Alexander, Cynden, and Knox stood before the men. It looked like it was Alexander who addressed the group. Probably giving instructions for the day and informing them of what to expect.

It would be a busy day for the men as there would be onlookers coming to find out what would happen to her uncle. The thought of it made her eyes sting as she fought to keep from crying.

Her wonderful gentle uncle didn’t deserve what happened. Every part of her being demanded that she fight to have him set free. And she would.

It wasn’t a long wait before the guardsmen dispersed, some heading to the gate and walls, others to their sleeping quarters, and yet another group remained on the practice field. Knox was among those who remained.

Despite not wishing to approach while the laird and Cynden remained, Sencha needed to find out what she could. It wasn’t that she was intimidated by his cousins, after all, they’d all grown up together. It was that she didn’t want to give the impression that she demanded favoritism. Which of course she did.

Knox and his cousins all knew her uncle, they had to ken it was not in his nature to cause harm to another human being.

At seeing her, Knox headed toward her his shoulder-length hair blowing away from his face. The tiredness from the night before gone, he looked every bit an impressive warrior. His hazel gaze met hers and it was as if he touched her face. Sencha almost reached up to cup her own cheek.

The closer he got, the safer she felt. It was as if a warm cloak was placed over her shoulders.

“I need to speak with ye,” Sencha asked meeting his gaze. “What did ye find out yesterday?”

Knox drew closer and took her elbow. “I can meet ye in the great room after I speak with the archers.”

He looked across the courtyard where several men with bows in hand waited. “I will tell ye that Alexander will be speaking to two or three people who will come from the village later this morning. They are witnesses.”

“Who are they? Will they speak against my uncle?”

He shook his head. “Both against and for.” He gave her a pointed look. “I dinnae expect anything will be decided today.” With that, he turned and walked back to where the archers waited.

It would not do to wait while other people helped decide the fate of an innocent man. Sencha wanted to run after Knox and inform him that her uncle’s fate was more important than stupid archery practice or whatever it was he did. Irritation filled her and she hurried back into the house and through the great room.

Upon reaching the short corridor to where her uncle was, the guard gave her a sharp command to stop.

“I must speak to my uncle.” Sencha continued forward, not willing to be intimidated by a man she’d known since they were children. “Liam let me speak to him.”

The guard blew out a breath. “Fine but be quick about it.”

She gave him a droll look. “What does it matter? Ye are nae going anywhere anytime soon.”

Other than a huff, he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned and unlocked the door, opened it and peered in. Then motioned for her to enter leaving the door open.

Her uncle stood by the small window that gave him a view of nothing but the wall surrounding the keep.

“Sencha how are ye this morn?” He opened his arms, and she rushed to him fortifying against any tears.

They sat and he gave her a quizzical look. “What are ye doing up so early?”

“I want to ask ye a couple questions,” she began. “What is the name of the man ye went to see to return the knife? Why did ye have the knife? Are ye sure to not have seen anyone when she went inside the hut to leave it?”

Her uncle rubbed both hands down his face, then stared blankly ahead. “The fisherman’s name is Guiles. He and I met at the village square when he came to sell fish about a fortnight ago. When I got home, I realized I had his knife in the basket with the fish. I kept forgetting to return it. The other morning, yer aunt told me she had a craving to make fish stew. I told her I’d buy some from Guiles.”

“So ye went to bring the knife and to meet with him?” Sencha asked.

“Aye,” her uncle replied. “I thought that I could return it and find out when I might return to purchase some fish, I was told he is usually gone for two or three days.”

Sencha tried to picture who the man was, but she couldn’t recall anyone by the name Guiles, especially as she couldn’t recall the last time she’d gone to the shore where the fishing huts were.

Her uncle continued, “I saw several people on my way there, greeting them as I went. On the way back, I stopped at the baker. If I had stabbed someone with a knife, surely there would have been blood upon my clothing.”

The baker would have to come to testify, Sencha decided. “Anyone else ye spoke to upon yer return?”

“I remembered that I’d nae fed the chickens, so I left the baker and hurried home.” Her uncle gave her a weak smile. “That is all I can tell ye about that day. The fishing huts seemed empty to me.”

Sencha had an idea. “How did ye ken where the man called Guiles lived?”

“I didnae. I wandered about and asked a lad, he told me.” His eyes brightened. “That’s it, the young lad, he would ken where I went and what I did.”

“What did he look like?” Sencha asked leaning forward with excitement. “Do ye recall anything about him?”

Scratching his head in thought, her uncle shook his head. “Skinny, with a missing front tooth, looked to be about ten. Rather ragged, a street urchin, probably looking for things to steal.”

“That’s something,” Sencha said. “Did ye tell the council about the boy?”

Her uncle shook his head. “I was so confused and scared. I forgot. But I will today.”

“I best go.” Sencha stood and pressed a hand on her uncle’s shoulder. “This will be sorted. I promise.”

She had to find Gordon and insist he take her to the fishing village. It was imperative to find the boy and bring him back to tell Alexander what all he’d seen the morning of the killing.

Hurrying back outside, she went out to the stables.

The smell of horses and hay was thick in the air as men guided the beasts outside while others cleaned the stables.

“Have ye seen Gordon, the man who brought my aunt, my mother, and me here?” she asked a young man, who’d she’d seen speaking to Gordon a day earlier.

The man studied her for a moment before recognition brightened his face. “Aye, he left earlier. Said he’d be back midday at the earliest.”

Her spirit sank, eyes looking past him, hoping against hope Gordon was within sight. “Is there a horse I can ride? It is very important.”

The young man shrugged. “I will ask.”

Sencha hurried to the house to retrieve a cloak. Skirting quickly past the great room to avoid seeing her mother or aunt, she went up the stairs.

When she went back out, Sencha quickly mounted and looked to the lad who worked at the stables. “Would ye please give a message to Knox Ross? Tell him that I have gone to the fishermen’s huts.”

The young man nodded, and she guided the mare through the courtyard and past the gates. Something had to be done, she had to find the lad who’d seen her uncle the day Fitz was killed.

It was not a long way to the fishing village, unfortunately it had rained the night before, which left the road muddy, forcing the horse to a slower pace. It suited Sencha as she wasn’t an experienced rider. Usually, Gordon took her anywhere she wished to go, whether to visit Nala or to the village. Other than that, she usually walked.

Upon nearing, the fishing village seemed empty, which made sense as it was still early. From the shoreline, several boats were visible in the distance. Atop gentle waves, the men stood in their vessels, tossing out nets or dragging them back in.

Sencha dismounted and with her hand across her brow she watched for a moment before turning toward the huts. A pack of dogs meandered, not seeming to find her interesting enough to pay any attention to. Instead, they sniffed the ground searching for something to eat.

In hopes of finding the boy her uncle had described, Sencha hurried past each hut, looking from left to right for any movement. It seemed no one was about. Not one single person lingered around the huts.

“Are ye looking for someone?” The raspy male’s voice startled her, and Sencha whirled to find a tall lanky man leaning on the doorway of a hut she’d walked past.

He’d not been there just a moment earlier. Lips twisted into a snarl, he spat on the ground as he studied her. “Can ye nae talk?”

“I am looking for a young lad,” Sencha replied, then tried to come up with a reason. “He…he stole something from me. I am told he spends time here.”

The man took a step forward. “What did he steal?”

Sencha didn’t like the man’s expression, something about him made her skin crawl. Taking a step back, she looked around, angry she’d not thought to bring another person with her. “Have ye seen a lad of about ten about?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Why are ye alone? Surely ye came without permission. Why are ye really here?”

“Never ye mind,” Sencha snapped, doing her best to not show fear. “I came for what is mine. Nae to talk.”

Her bravado must have worked because the man finally shrugged. “If the boy is around, he hides.”

It occurred to Sencha that if the man was a fisherman, he’d not gone out. He was probably one of the witnesses. By his demeanor, she doubted he would do anything to help her uncle. Although there was no way to ken for sure and she wasn’t about to ask.

It was best to leave and go to the village. There she could get the constable to help her find the boy. Sencha eyed the horse, wishing she could magically leap onto its back. “I will eventually find him.”

Rounding the man, she could barely keep from running. In hindsight, running would have been a good idea because when she was but a couple of steps away from the man, something hard hit across the back of her head.

As the pain registered, Sencha landed face-first onto the ground. Everything blurred as she desperately tried to scramble away but she didn’t make it far. A heavy foot pressed onto the center of her back. The weight increased flattening Sencha into the muddied earth.

Not only was it hard to breathe, but impossible to scream, not that anyone would hear her as all the fishermen had already left the shore in search of their catches for the day.

Fear and pain battled to be forerunners, the pounding of her heart not helping with the inability to breathe. Sencha desperately raked at the sandy dirt until finally able to turn her face sideways. Unfortunately because of the weight of the man’s foot, it was hard to take more than shallow breaths.

Despite the terror she wanted to sag in relief when the man lifted his foot and yanked her up to stand, fingers digging painfully into her arms.

“I dinnae ken why yer here, but I do ken ye lie.” His rancid bread filled her nostrils as she gasped air into her depleted lungs.

Realization struck. The man acted in such a way because it was probable he was the killer.

Sencha swallowed. “Let me go. My escort will be here shortly to search for me.”

The man huffed obviously not believing her then half-dragged her forward.

Although raised to be gentle and feminine, she wasn’t about to allow this man to take her without a fight. She kicked with as much strength as she could muster, satisfied when the man flinched and cursed. The result was his grip tightening around her upper arms, but she didn’t stop struggling against the hold.

Lowering her head, she sunk her teeth into the man’s right hand and he yelped in pain lessening his hold on her. Sencha attempted to escape, but his other hand remained firm on her arm. Sencha stopped on his foot, and he yowled in pain relinquishing his hold.

She barely made it a couple of steps before the man caught her by the arm, whirled her around, and plunged his fist into her stomach.

Letting out a loud “oof” all air left her body and Sencha stumbled backward barely able to keep from falling. Then the second hit came. This time his fist struck the side of her face, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Get up bitch,” the man said through gritted teeth, yanking her up by the hair.

When he slapped her across the face, she lost the battle, and all went dark.