NEWS IN ODD PLACES
Amabel strode through the market, feeling happy. She had woken beside her man, and they had made love and talked and told more stories. They were closer than she had ever thought possible and had been so ever since his return.
She breathed in, breathing in the scents of roast nuts, fish and vegetables. She loved the market.
“...ha' ye' no' a haporth o' eggs?” a woman was saying, getting dangerously close to a hawker with fresh eggs, selling them in small baskets.
“Naw! I ain't got haporths. Only ten in a basket.”
Amabel grinned as she walked away, hoping the market watch would do something if the debate was too lively. She wandered on to pause at a stall with pure raw wool.
“Fine wool, milady!” the man behind the table called cheerily. “The best wool.”
Amabel smiled. “I am sure it is.”
She felt it, rubbing the oily strands between her fingers. It was fine wool, the fur dense and soft. She was almost tempted to purchase some to ask Blaire to card for weaving. But she had not woven for years and chose against it.
She paused at a stall with silk, thinking. She wanted to find a present for her aunt. As she waited there, she heard a conversation at the stall where a man sold roasting nuts. She listened in with interest.
“...and I do hear they're moving on Dunkeld!”
“No!” The woman moved her hand to her mouth in shock. “It's no' possible.”
“It is!” the man insisted. “Or so I heard it is.”
Amabel stopped in her tracks. Who was moving on Dunkeld? That was Broderick's home.
“Where did you hear it?”
The man indicated some youths who were setting out a stall on his right. “Them,” he said. “They's woodcutters. They said they saw them in the woods, going that way.”
The woman raised a brow. “How do they know that's where they plan tae go?”
The man shrugged. “Dinnae ask me, Bonnie. I dinnae ken. If ye want tae know, they're the best people tae ask.”
Amabel watched as the woman stared across at the boys, as if deciding whether to ask them anything. At that moment, both of them seemed to notice her. They grew quiet and stood still, regarding her nervously.
“Lady! Come and buy some nuts? Fresh and roasted, warm for the chill.”
Amabel smiled at the man. She accepted a bag of nuts and paid a coin. She bit into one, feeling the delicious, starchy warmth fill her mouth. Roasted chestnuts were a favorite of hers. Blowing out the steam behind a delicate hand, she made a decision. She went across to the youths who had almost finished raising their stall.
“Greetings,” she said, trying to slur her accent slightly so they would not guess she was a lady. She was not sure why she thought it would help – she was wearing one of her old gowns but it was still finest wool and stood out in the market like a coin dropped on cobblestone.
They all stared at her.
“Hello, mistress,” one of them, the eldest, Amabel presumed, said gruffly. He looked to be fourteen or fifteen years old.
“I heard you boys were cutting wood near Dunkeld?” she asked cheerily.
The boys looked at each other. They seemed frightened of her, and Amabel sympathized with them. A lady – probably one of the Lochlann ladies herself – appearing in their stall and asking odd questions was probably quite a frightening thing.
“Aye, mistress,” one of the boys said. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and stood straight. The other boys followed the example, furtively wiping their hands.
She smiled.
“I heard you saw men in the woods?”
Again, the silent consulting among them. The eldest spoke up. “We saw an army, milady.”
“Oh?” Amabel raised her brow. “Why do you say an army?”
“Well...” The boy paused. “What we saw wasnae an army. We saw some blokes in mail, wandering about. We was with Gylas. He's his da',” he added, pointing to one of the younger boys in the group, “an' he told us to be quiet. He said they looked like scouts.”
“Scouts?”
“Like the forerunners of an army,” the younger boy – the son of Gylas – said. “That's why he told us to be quiet, see. They shouldnae know we'd seen them.”
“There was five of 'em,” the first boy added helpfully. “So, it must've been a big army, to have so many scouts, see,” he elaborated, clearly pleased to demonstrate his knowledge.
Amabel stared. “Truly?”
The boy scratched his head.
“She wants tae know, is you talkin' shite? Or is it straight?”
“Nae! I'm no' a chancer! You know as well as ah do it's straight.”
Amabel sighed. “Very well. So, the five of you saw scouts in the woods near Dunkeld. Yes?”
“Aye.” the boy replied.
“Good,” Amabel said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone, though her heart was thumping. “And do you know where they came from?”
“North,” a boy replied.
Amabel blinked.
“How do you know that?”
“'Cos that's where they were comin' from, mistress,” he piped up. He looked at her as if she was missing a remarkably obvious point.
She sighed.
“Good. If you were to guess what clan they were, what would you say?”
She held her breath while the boys scratched their heads, thinking. The reference to the north already made her wonder if it was the MacAdams: their major stronghold was to the east, she knew.
“MacDowell!” the boy said at once.
She stared at them. She was so shocked she almost dropped the bag of nuts she held. When the boys saw it, they looked at her as if she threw away gold. She sighed.
“You're sure it was the MacDowells? Why?”
“'Dunno, mistress. 'Cos they were comin' from up that way?”
Amabel nodded. It made sense. “Thank you,” she said politely. “Could any of you use some nuts?” she added. “Only I am not that fond of them, and...”
The boys all stepped closer, with clamorous shouts of “Nuts!” “Ta!” “Thank 'ee, milady.”
She smiled and handed them to the leader then walked away as they squabbled about them. She headed to the fabric-sellers and selected a length of pale gray velvety-cloth. She paid for it and then headed at once toward the castle.
She glanced up, noticing it was about to rain. Quickening her pace, she headed back to the castle.
As she walked up the slope that led to the gate, feeling the first spots of rain start falling, she wondered,
is there anything in what those boys were saying? Or is this simply idle chatter?
Rolling the velvet under her arm, she decided there was only one way to find out. She would go and ask Aunt Aili. If anyone would know, she would.