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responsible.”
    â€œAnd he knows he would have been executed,” Jennie said, her voice rising with fear. “Tied to a horse’s heels, dragged over rocks and debris, hanged until half dead, cut to ribbons, castrated, and not beheaded until it was certain he could feel no pain!”
    â€œPerhaps that wouldn’t have been his fate.”
    â€œIt’s the order Sir Niles said he had been given! I heard him, my lady, I heard him telling your husband what must be done. Afton argued that no executions should take place here, but Sir Niles was determined. He said that the rebel, Eric Graham, had fought far too long and too often against King Edward—first with William Wallace, and now, for Robert Bruce. He is a known outlaw, lady. He was to be an example. His wife was to be given to the troops. And as to his daughter . . . oh, Lord!” She crossed herself quickly. “Sir Niles thought it so amusing. The child was too young for much entertainment, but she was the spawn of a rebel and would grow to be a traitor, and if she was murdered, it would be best.”
    â€œAfton would have never allowed the slaughter of a child.”
    â€œIgrainia, Lord Afton had little rule over Sir Niles, not when his orders came from the Earl of Pembroke, who is following the direct command of King Edward! And Robert Bruce may have had himself crowned king of the Scots, but he hasn’t taken hold of Scotland, certainly not here. King Edward’s men hold almost everything in the lowlands, from the small farms and hamlets to the great castles. Igrainia, I swear, as well, that we have tended to the sick, to all of them, as Afton first said we must, then as we promised you, when Sir Robert insisted you flee. There are many alive who would not be if you hadn’t had us tend them.”
    â€œThe fact that so many are alive seems to have little effect upon the wrath of this man. Perhaps he cannot see the truth now, but he must. For all of our people who remain alive, Jennie, and who may survive, we must do everything we can now for the prisoners.” She felt her own voice rising slightly. The prisoners! Now, they were the prisoners. “My chamber must be prepared. Clean sheets, fresh water. Fresh rushes. His wife will be cared for there. We must . . . we must keep her alive.”
    â€œHe will kill us, one way or the other.”
    â€œJennie!” Igrainia took her maid by the shoulders and shook her lightly. “He will not kill us while he needs us.”
    â€œBut . . . your chamber. Where . . .” Her voice wavered and she gave up speaking.
    â€œWhere Afton died,” Igrainia said softly. “It doesn’t matter. He has said that she will be brought there. Jennie, we need to keep her alive.”
    â€œShe is dying.”
    â€œShe must not die.”
    Jennie seemed to understand then. She straightened, nodded to Igrainia, and hurried out. Igrainia turned her attention to Margot once again, trying to cool the woman and sorry once again that someone so gentle and kind, who had worked tirelessly among the others, had been stricken. But this pestilence had struck with ravaging cruelty, bypassing so very few of them. Years before, when she was in France, the village where she was staying, outside Paris had suffered a similar fate, and she and Jennie had nearly died then. She did not fall now because of that terrible time, she knew, yet this illness was so devastating she didn’t know if it wouldn’t sicken her in the end after all. When Afton had died, it hadn’t seemed to matter.
    There were herbs that would help bring down the ravaging fevers, sometimes, and there were broths that could be forced between the lips of the sick. But little done by man seemed to make a difference.
    â€œThe master chamber is prepared for my wife?”
    He stood in the doorway, now as harsh and cold and pale as the ice sheets of the northern waters by winter. She might have felt a great pity