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hall Elizabeth was just slightly disappointed to discover the Scotsman had already departed for Claven’s Carn. After eating she fetched her cloak and hurried out-of-doors to speak with her shepherds. She knew that a storm was coming, and she wanted her flocks safely gathered in, for even now the ewes were dropping their lambs. Caught in the snow they could lose many of the young ones if their mams were not properly sheltered.
    Riding her horse from flock to flock, she supervised the gathering of the sheep, helping to drive some of the groups of animals towards the barns. Wolves were also a danger at this time of year. They seemed to sense the birthing process, and came skulking about seeking to catch a hapless lamb, and perhaps even its defensive mother.
    By midevening they had completed the task, aided by the light of a weak but full moon. The sheep in the farthest pastures were enclosed in barns built in scattered meadows for just such a purpose, as well as for storing hay. Their shepherds and their dogs would remain with them in sheds connected to the barns. Each little accessory structure had been built with a small stone fireplace. They contained supplies of wood, food, and water. Elizabeth Meredith was a woman who thought ahead and considered all possibilities.
    As she entered her house, tired but invigorated by her long day out-of-doors, the clouds were beginning to obscure the watery moon, scud-ding across the face of it as the winds began to rise, keening eerily in advance of the storm. Thomas Bolton and William Smythe had eaten earlier, and were both gone from the hall. Elizabeth sat alone at her board while her servants brought her a supper of mutton stew thick with chunks of meat, carrot, and onion; a small fresh cottage loaf; butter; and cheese. They filled her goblet with her own October ale, and she ate hungrily, mopping the gravy from her plate with the last of the bread, reaching for an apple as she swallowed down the rest of her ale.
    Then, leaning back in her chair, Elizabeth contemplated her hall with pleasure. The dogs lay sleeping before the hot fire. The oak furniture glowed with a combination of age and good care. Outside the snow was falling, and the world was sweetly silent. She had worked hard this day, and she was content. She didn’t want to go to court or wear the beautiful but constricting gowns that had been made for her.
    She didn’t want to have to remember her manners, or be careful of each word she uttered. She wanted to remain here at Friarsgate. She wanted to enjoy the spring and the annual counting of her flocks, but instead she would be on the road to London. To a court she didn’t want to join, and a sister who would find fault with her because she wasn’t a real lady. Elizabeth Meredith sighed deeply, then jumped as there came a thunderous knocking on the manor door.

Chapter 2

    E lizabeth heard a servant going to answer the knocking, and moments later the Scot stumbled into her hall, shaking the snow from his cloak as he pulled it off. “Come to the fire, sir,” she beckoned him. “What brings you back to Friarsgate, and in such dangerous weather?” Tonight she did not have to ask. A servant was at the Scot-man’s side with a large goblet of wine. “Drink,” Elizabeth said, “then sit and tell me. Albert, fetch a plate of stew for Master MacColl. He will be hungry.”
    Baen MacColl had accepted the goblet gratefully. His hand was shaking with the cold, and he wondered if he would ever be warm again. He drank half the goblet in a single gulp, and began to feel a faint warmth spreading up from his belly. Perhaps he would live after all. “Thank you, lady,” he said.
    “Sit down, sir. You can eat by the fire, for I suspect it will take both food and the heat of the flames before you are truly warm again.”
    He nodded. “Aye,” he said, briefly attempting to be polite, but just wanting to bask in the warmth of the hearth until he could feel his extremities