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threat keeps others away. I've seen naught here. And haunts would not frighten me nearly as much as reivers and wardens would."
    "I should not leave you here alone. This man is a real enough threat. Your brother would want me to protect you."
    Mairi smiled. "And you've done that well. But you go on to Jennet's house. I'll be safe here. This one will sleep a long while." She gently touched the man's forehead, avoiding the swollen purple bruise above his left eyebrow. "And pray that he does wake, or we'll be guilty of murder. But before you go, Christie, help me search for his papers." He nodded and leaned forward to undo the clasp of the messenger's wet cloak.
    Mairi untied the thongs that attached a leather pouch to the man's belt. Opening the flap and shoving her hand inside, she rummaged around and pulled out a small circular black stone surrounded by a wooden frame. She frowned at it, tilting it, barely glancing into its polished surface before shoving it back into the bag. A moment later, she tossed the pouch away. It jingled as it fell.
    "Only coins, and a little mirror," she muttered with disinterest, and began to pinch the hem of his cloak. "Naught is stitched inside here."
    "Perhaps he lost his papers in the bog," Christie suggested. "Or he may have carried them in his saddle. I can check his mount when I go up."
    "Be sure to lead his horse back with you, and tend to it in Jennet's barn. No one will find it there—unless the reivers come again. But the new lock on the stable should keep them out for a while." She frowned, turning her thoughts back to the messenger who lay so still beside her. "He must be carrying some papers. Your kinsmen sent word that he brought orders from the privy council. He would not lose those in a bog, or leave them in his saddle to be lost or stolen."
    "My kinsmen warned me that this man is dangerous."
    "Did they say who he is or why the council sent him?"
    He shook his head. "All they said was, look well to the life of Jennet's husband and leave the council's messenger be."
    "Do they know that we rode down the other messengers?"
    "I do not think they do. Even if they did, they would not care. They consider Jennet's husband their own kin now. They meant to warn me that Iain would be in danger once the messenger reached the warden."
    "They did not say his name?"
    "Only that he is notorious, and no man to cross. They said I would know him soon enough. And they left me to pay the bill for their ale," he added in a low mutter.
    Christie knelt to roll the man sideways, and Mairi tugged the stranger's cloak out from under him. The thick black wool was saturated and heavy. Feeling quickly for papers hidden in the lining, she found none.
    "Well, your cousins were wrong," she said. "This one was easier to ride down than the others. He rode straight into the bog. And he is not dangerous now—he looks quite peaceful, sleeping there." She brushed at the mud caked on the side of his chin. His beard rasped beneath her fingers. She tilted her head. "He has a fine, handsome face beneath that dirt."
    "Do not be swept away by a bonny face." Christie frowned as he looked at the stranger. "I swear I've seen him before. Well, whatever his name, he's a strong, tall man. We should tie his hands and feet before he wakes."
    "We hardly need hurry, by the look of him. Now help me find that message." While Christie tugged at one of the man's long boots, Mairi patted at the man's sleeveless jack.
    Made of dark leather stitched in a diamond pattern, the jack gained its thick armorlike protection from inner layers of quilted linen sewn around thin iron plates. Molded over his broad chest and tapering to his lean waist, the jack flared slightly over the man's loosely cut woolen breeches.
    Mairi undid the numerous metal hooks that closed the stiff garment from his waist to his neck. She pulled the heavy vest open, revealing a brown doublet and linen shirt.
    Resting a hand on his hip to balance herself, Mairi discovered