Chapter Four

It took a pair of hours to arrive at the humble but well-kept house. Despite the lack of any outward signs, a deep sadness seemed to hover over the area. Such was sorrow, Gavin mused. It was not just something seen, but a tangible almost touchable thing.

One by one, assisting one another, the grief-stricken family climbed from the wagon. Carrying a bairn on her shoulder, the older woman ushered the other three children toward the house. The widow, helped by the older man, hesitated at the doorway, in all probability not wishing to see her husband's body. Not wanting to face the harsh reality she'd been thrust into.

Once she entered, her wails emanated from the interior.

There was nothing that could be done to alleviate the woman's sadness, as she mourned for her husband. Neither words nor gestures meant anything to someone mad with grief.

The older man remained outside, he looked toward the house; his face etched with sadness. "He was my daughter's husband. A good hardworking man. Didnae deserve to be killed. Never did harm to anyone. The worse he did was to have an ale too many at the tavern some days before returning home."

The house was a short ride from the village, the road to and from was well traversed, it was entirely possible others could have ridden past Edgar on his way from the tavern. There could have been witnesses.

Gavin realized that he and Knox had a long day ahead. They would leave no stone unturned. Someone had to have seen or heard something. If it meant stopping every person they saw and going to each surrounding house and farm, he would do it.

Studying the surroundings, he could see the road and to the rear of house to open fields where a herd of sheep grazed.

"Whose lands are those?" he asked the man.

"They are Clan Ross lands to the hills there," the man replied pointing. "Past that are Mackinnon lands."

Knox frowned. "They belong to Munro now, do they not?"

"Aye, they are now my brother's lands. He has made every effort to speak to everyone who lives on the lands. I am certain he knows who lives near."

"Tell us what you think happened," Knox said to the older man. Now that there was a bit of calm, the wails had subsided, it was possible the man knew things he'd not divulged in front of his daughter.

The old man seemed to deflate at having to recount the sad story. "I like to go for short walks to be sure the chickens haven't wandered too far. Most days, I see Edgar arriving back from the village. I help him unload any unsold birds and see about sweeping out the wagon so he can go inside and spend time with the family.

He was nae back. It seemed strange as it was late, even if he would have stopped at the tavern. He always goes…er went very early, at dawn and it is his habit to return from the market before last meal. When I walked to the edge of the road there." He pointed to the area.

The older man closed his eyes and grimaced, as if the memory of what had occurred was physically painful.

"I saw the wagon on the side of the road, there by the gathering of trees. By the way it was lopsided, and Edgar was nae calling out, I knew something was wrong. So I rushed to see about Edgar. I thought he may have drunk overly much."

He paused and cleared his throat, seeming to compose himself. "It was then I saw all the blood and realized he had been injured. He'd not been there earlier, so I imagine the horse must have continued forward until almost home."

The man wiped both hands down his face. "I was nae sure what to do. It was obvious he was dead. I brought him to the house. The oldest boy, my wife, and my daughter helped me get him down. I left then and rode to the village tavern, he would sometimes go there ye see," the older man said.

Gavin and Knox remained silent, allowing the man to continue without interruption.

His sad gaze moved toward the village. "It was there I was told what happened earlier at the tavern."

It was as if speaking took all his strength, the man sagged further, his thin shoulders rounded. "Nothing else makes any sense. The money he made from selling birds remained in his purse. He was nae robbed."

"I wish to see the wounds," Gavin stated.

The older man motioned to the doorway. "Very well."

The interior of the house was surprisingly well lit, the curtains pulled away from the windows to allow for sunlight. Atop a side table a lantern gave that side of the kitchen an eerie glow.

The dead man's wife sat in a chair, her hand upon the table upon which her husband's body was laid. Her children and the older woman were gathered around her, all of them were silent in that moment.

"I must see the injury," Gavin explained. The widow gave a barely perceptive nod, and the older woman ushered the children to another room.

After a moment, the older man took his daughter by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "Come my sweet. Allow yerself a moment of rest."

Silently, the grieving woman allowed her father to guide her away.

Gavin pushed up the dead man's torn tunic and exposed a jagged cut across his chest and a deep puncture under his ribs on the left side of his body. Edgar had been cut across and then speared straight through with a sharp sword. From the cuts on his hands, it was obvious that the poor man had tried to defend himself. Without a weapon, he would have had little chance of surviving.

Knox shook his head, jaw tight. "Whoever did this, had no mercy."

There was a soft cry followed by a thud as the widow fainted. For a short time she would be in peace. Gavin neared and lifted her from the floor to gently place her on a cot.

The older man lingered near the doorway. He looked to the dead man and then to Gavin. "We must have justice."

"Ye have my word. We will find out what happened to him," Gavin replied. Fury enveloped him. He'd never understood how anyone could attack a defenseless person. Whoever killed this man was without honor.

Whoever attacked the defenseless man was a coward.

In silence, Gavin and Knox mounted and rode from the dead man's house toward the village. It was a well-traveled road with little in the way of foliage blocking views to the front and back. To their right there were groupings of trees every so often, but for the most part it was a view of sloping valleys and hills. To their right every so often herds of sheep or a scattering of cows were visible.

"What do ye think?" Knox asked.

"I cannae think of why anyone would attack an unarmed man who seemed to not be doing more than riding home. Perhaps he happened upon something, or someone, he should nae have."

Gavin scanned the surroundings. Other than someone hiding in woods on one side of the road, there was no reason to expect anything nefarious to occur in that particular area.

There were just two plots of land with homes along the opposite side of the road from the forest that led to the village.

When riding up to the first house, they neared and were greeted by a woman who waved them closer. She walked from inside a pig pen with an empty bucket in her hands. The unmistakable odor of pigs carried with her.

At them dismounting, she looked on with a worried expression. "I apologize sirs, I didnae expect my laird's family to visit," she said. "All I can offer ye is cold water from the well."

"That would be perfect, I am parched," Knox said with a smile. Immediately the woman beamed at his enthusiasm.

"Which way madam?" Knox asked exuding his well-practiced charm, while motioning for the woman to walk first then fell into step alongside."

As they made their way to her front door, Gavin walked past to the well, dropped the bucket, and drew it up. Water was poured into two chipped cups the woman had rushed from inside with. They drank the cool refreshment.

"Did ye see Edgar, the chicken farmer ride by earlier today?" Knox asked the woman who looked back and forth between them.

"Aye, I believe I did. He travels past frequently, to and from the village."

"Was he going or returning from the village when ye saw him?" Gavin asked.

The woman pondered and then shook her head. "It was early, so he was headed there. I didnae see him after."

"What of other riders?" Gavin asked. "Anyone that took yer interest?"

After a short moment, the woman shook her head. "Nay, not even a peddler today."

They thanked the woman after establishing that she'd not seen either Edgar or Hendry later that day.

The next house was a bit larger than the woman's. They were greeted by a stout bearded man who stood with both arms crossed over his chest with a dagger fisted in his right hand. It wasn't a particularly welcoming stance, which made Gavin consider whether the man had ever come to the keep and met the laird's family.

"What do ye want?" The man's eyes narrowed not showing any fear, which was admirable.

They remained mounted. "We are here to ask ye about Edgar," Knox said staring down at the man.

The man's eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

When both of them dismounted, the man looked them up and down. "Are ye the laird's men?"

Hungry and tired, Gavin wasn't in the mood to explain himself, he nodded. "Aye, we are. Edgar from up the road. Do ye know him?"

The man's stance relaxed somewhat. "Aye, what of it?"

Knox spoke next. "He was killed earlier today. Did ye seem him travel past here today?"

The man's eyes widened, and he lowered his arms. "He's dead? What happened?"

"Stabbed," Knox stated.

"Did ye see him?" Gavin repeated.

The man looked in the direction of Edgar's house and nodded. "I saw him ride past toward where he lives. Seemed still alive to me. I was a ways back away from the road, but I can see well enough."

"Did anyone else ride past just before or after?"

The man scratched his beard. "Just before seeing Edgar, I saw a group of men, perhaps six, on horseback. They were nae on the road; they were over there along the trees." He pointed to the trees.

"I didnae see anyone else today when I was out."

Gavin and Knox exchanged looks. "What direction were the group of men headed then?" Knox asked.

"They lingered on the edge of the woods for a bit, then they were gone."

Gavin had a bad feeling about the group of men. "Did ye recognize any of them?"

The man shook his head. "Too far to see their faces clearly."

They spoke to the man for a bit longer. After learning of Edgar's death, he dropped the tough fa?ade and assured he'd go and check on the family. Other than seeing the men along the forest, he didn't have any other information that was helpful.

After mounting once again, a weariness took over Gavin. It wasn't going to be a simple matter to figure out what had occurred to Edgar. No matter how tired, he was responsible for Edgar's family, the guard Hendry and anyone else who could be in danger.

They rode to the edge of the tree line and peered through the trees. A cold wind blew rustling the leaves, feeble rays of the sun filtered through the thick foliage, giving the area an eerie appearance.

"We should go to the tavern and then back to the keep," Gavin said, not looking away from the trees. If there were six or more men hiding there, it would be foolish for just two of them to ride into unknown danger.

No matter what the last man they'd spoken to thought to have seen, didn't mean he counted the correct number. And even if there were men lurking among the trees, it could be they did not kill Edgar.

There was the fact of the argument between Edgar and Hendry. Too much drink brought consequences and sometimes men acted out of character. It was best to go to the tavern and ask questions. After they'd return to Keep Ross and speak to Hendry.

"If the men he saw at the forest were from beyond, it could be that some of the Mackinnon warriors who fled have returned," Knox said.

"I am thinking the same," Gavin replied as they guided their steeds toward the village. "But we must ask questions and find out what occurred at the tavern. It is best to have as much information as possible before speaking to Hendry.

Once entering the village, they went directly to the tavern. Despite the late hour, there were only a pair of men sitting at tables, one was slumped over, snoring loudly. The stale air smelled of ale and cooked fish, not exactly an enticing combination.

"How is it my humble tavern is graced by Ross men?" The tavern keep, a burly man with a thick beard, called Angus, yelled out when they entered.

Two tankards of ale were placed on the surface of the long counter the man stood behind.

Angus was a menacing looking man with beefy arms and thick shoulders, it was rare that anyone pushed their luck against him.

"Were ye here when Edgar came in yesterday?" Gavin asked.

The man gave them a quizzical look. "Aye, I was."

"Did anything of note happen while he was here?" Knox asked next.

Angus shrugged. "He and one of yer guards, Hendry, argued."

Not surprising the man was not going to divulge more information than needed. Especially when the men at one of the tables sat up straighter and watched the interaction.

Gavin gave Angus a pointed look. "What exactly happened?"

Once again the barkeep shrugged. "Nothing more than a drunk man losing his temper. Edgar hit Hendry with his tankard and Hendry shoved him away. That seemed the end of it to me."

"Did either make threats to the other?" Knox asked.

The barkeep gave a noncommittal grunt and shook his head.

This was becoming a chore. Gavin drank the ale down. "When Edgar left, was he alone?"

At this point, it was becoming clear Angus was annoyed. "I have nothing more to say. What is this all about anyway?"

Knox and Gavin exchanged looks. Finally Knox leaned closer to Angus. "Edgar was killed on his way home. Were ye annoyed at him and followed him out perhaps?"

The bearded man's eyes grew wide. "Ed-Edgar left alone. I remained here, 'ave remained since. Ye can ask anyone."

The barkeep inhaled loudly. "That I can recall Hendry left much later." He looked around the tavern and motioned to the two men at the nearby tables. "Neither of them were here then. I didnae see anyone follow Edgar out."

The man blew out a breath. "Poor man."

After placing a pair of coins on the table's surface, they left with no more information than when they'd arrived. It was disheartening that it was still possible that the guard had killed Edgar, but the road to the keep was in a different direction than Edgar's house. There was no way to establish which direction Hendry had gone. The people they'd questioned earlier had not seen him.

"By the time we get to the keep, there would be little light. Any more travel will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, let us go speak to Hendry," Gavin said as they retrieved their mounts.

It was a short ride to the keep, the entire time they were silent. Gavin went over the details of the day in his mind. There didn't seem to be an easy explanation to what had occurred.

The road between the village and where Edgar lived was well-traveled. He would have to send men to ask as many people as possible if they'd seen anyone.

Riding past the gates, Gavin's attention remained on the task at hand. He could only think of how Hendry would react at being questioned.

"I am starved," Knox stated, stalking into the house after the stable lads fetched their horses.

Gavin felt more tired than hungry, but he wouldn't be able to rest until speaking with Hendry. He directed a guard to go fetch the warrior and went inside.

The great room was empty, so he went to a table near the hearth, allowing the warmth to envelop him.

Knox had made quick work of alerting the kitchen staff for food and soon bowls of steaming stew, bread, and tankards of ale were brought immediately. Seeing the food Gavin gave in to his body's need for sustenance and he joined Knox.

"Someone else must have seen either Edgar or the attackers," Gavin said while chewing. "I will send men out first thing."

There wasn't much more to discuss. Whatever happened from the time Edgar left the tavern until he was killed, there didn't seem to be a reason for his death.

"It will be a cold winter," Knox said between bites.

Gavin nodded. "I agree."

Just then Cynden entered the room and strolled toward them. "Did ye see him? How did he die?"

Gavin and Knox took turns telling Cynden what they'd seen and how little they'd been able to discover after speaking to people.

They stopped speaking when Hendry entered and walked to the table. The warrior lowered to sit next to Knox.

Hendry was six and twenty, muscular from sword training, and of medium height. He was well-respected by other guardsmen for his abilities in battle and how he seemed to always keep a level head. His shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back and held in place with a leather strap, and he wore a simple tunic, britches, and leather boots.

"What happens? Why was I confined to my quarters?" he asked looking from one of their faces to the other. His brow lowered as he waited for someone to speak.

"Did ye have an argument with a man called Edgar at the tavern earlier today?" Gavin asked.

Hendry shrugged. "Aye, the man was drunk. I made a jest about him smelling of chicken shit. He took offense and hit me on the back of the head with his tankard. Spilled ale all over me, I had to go to the loch and wash. Why are ye asking about that?"

Taking the man in, it seemed as if Hendry wasn't aware of the other man's death.

Gavin met Hendry's gaze. "The man, Edgar, was killed on his way home. Cut through with a blade."

Hendry's expression barely changed, which was not surprising given he was a warrior. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Did ye kill him?" Gavin asked.

Hendry gave him a droll look. "Nay."

Knox pointed at Hendry with his fork. "When ye left the village to return here, did ye see a group of men near the forest?"

This time Hendry's eyebrows lifted. "Strange ye should ask because I sensed someone watching me. I thought to see some riders in the trees."

Knox seemed puzzled. "Did ye see Edgar on the road?"

Hendry shook his head. "I dinnae and before ye ask. I donnae know where he lives."

"Lived," Gavin said pushing back from the table. "Tomorrow ye will go with us to where ye sensed someone watching. A man who lives along the road where the dead man lived, saw a group of men lingering near the wood's edge."

"Do ye think I killed Edgar?" Hendry asked. Despite his blank expression, from the hardness of his gaze, there was underlying tension.

"Nay," Gavin replied. "I had to ask since ye and he were seen arguing."

"We didnae argue. He stood too close to me. I told him he stank. He hit me with a tankard. That was all."

"Be here in the morning, tell four men to come as well. After first meal we head out," Knox instructed the warrior who stood.

With one last look at Gavin, Hendry frowned. "I would nae kill a man over something that happens in the tavern."

"I believe ye," Gavin replied. "Dinnae worry yerself."

The warrior shook his head. "Family?"

"Wife, her parents and four bairns," Gavin replied.

Hendry shook his head. "Why would someone kill him? He was nae a fighter."

"That is what we must find out," Knox said.

Gavin ate every bit of the stew, sopping up bits with bread and then he trudged up the stairs and to his bedchamber. He sat to pull off his boots and stockings, followed by his britches and tunic. Once bereft of clothing he washed up and donned a clean tunic.

The bed was welcoming as he fell into it. His mind went to the scene at the dead man's house. The family would mourn for days, the wife longer. It had been obvious the dead man was well-liked and that he'd been a hard worker, ensuring to provide a modest, yet good life for his family.

There was no sense to his death. There didn't seem to be anyone who outwardly hated the man, or anything pointing to him having a grudge with someone. The more Gavin thought about it, the more he grew convinced that Edgar's death had been one of opportunity. He'd been a convenient kill, in the right place without any witnesses.

Rolling to his back he looked up into the darkness. What would he find out the next day? Who and why did someone kill a defenseless man?

The next morning he met with Cynden just before breaking their fast. Gavin informed his brother that he and the guardsmen would be patrolling in an effort to locate Edgar's killer. The youngest brother brooded at having to remain behind once again.

"Ye should stay here, ye are older and who Alex left in his stead," Cynden stated, his hazel gaze darkening.

"I have begun this and wish to finish," Gavin stated. "Just one day."

Cynden looked toward the great room and Gavin understood. It was not an easy task to help their people with whatever problems they brought before them. Representing the clan was, indeed, a heavy burden.

"Ye will do well in our brother's place," Gavin said meeting Cynden's hazel gaze instantly feeling the strong bond between them.

Cynden's lips curved. "I will rule with an iron fist."

Gavin chuckled. "I know ye will."

After breaking their fast, Gavin, Knox, Hendry, and four additional guardsmen made their way to the courtyard where their horses awaited. As one they mounted to prepare to leave.

He caught sight of a pair of women across the courtyard, at the well. Freya was with the servant girl Flora. They drew water from the well and filled other buckets.

She looked beautiful in the morning light, her raven black tresses braided and wound around her head.

Seeming to sense his regard, she lifted her face and looked to him. Her brow crinkled at noting him being surrounded by the others. All of them armed.

The other lass noticed her watching them and came to stand next to her, both of them searching him and his men as if trying to figure out what happened.

Gavin lifted his hand to them in assurance. Both returned the gesture then turned back to their tasks.

He slid a look to Knox who studied him with an amused look. "She is bonnie."

"Let us go," Gavin ordered, pretending not to have heard his cousin.

It was a sunny day, barely a cloud in the sky, making it easy to see distances. The group of Ross men rode at a gallop to the road leading from the village.

They slowed upon reaching the area where Hendry had sensed being watched. It was not far from the same patch of forest the man they'd spoken to the day before had pointed out. However, it was on a different road.

"Do we know of any groups of men that would need to ride about?" Gavin asked his guards.

The men shook their heads.

"Could be they were rounding up errant herds," one guard offered.

It was possible. However, what didnae make sense is that they would linger along the edge of the woods. Or that they would be together and not spread out to search for the animals.

Knox had been trained by one of the best clan Ross trackers, his father. More times than not, the lairds had relied on the elder or the son to assist with tracking for the lost, whether people or animal.

Since his father's demise, no one could compete with Knox.

"Can ye see if ye can track where they came from?" Gavin asked his cousin.

Gavin and the others rode a horse length behind as Knox guided his steed closer to the trees. He dismounted and bent low studying the ground and plants. After a few moments, he pointed to where there were broken branches.

"A group has recently traveled through. Both humans and horses were here," Knox said and looked at Gavin, who motioned for the others to stay back, then also dismounted.

"Whoever they were they'd either not expected to be seen or were not hiding. Either way because of it, it should be easy to track where the group of men went," Knox informed him.

Both Gavin and Knox remained on foot, guiding the group as they continued forth. Soon, the trail led them to an open field past another line of trees. From where they emerged, it was a clear path to a village that used to be part of Mackinnon hold before Munro took it over.

"Do ye think…" Knox stopped midsentence as they all looked across the expanse of land to the village where people milled about their day-to-day activities.

"Mackinnon warriors." Knox looked from him to the others and then met his gaze once again. In Knox's eyes Gavin saw a myriad of emotions: trepidation, sorrow, and resolve.

"I think the Mackinnon warriors have definitely returned," Gavin said, his blood running cold. "And they seek revenge."