He thrust his arms into Rob's shirt. The sleeves were a bit too long, as were the breeks. Of the three brothers, Rob was the tallest and Patrick the biggest. Alex was somewhere in between.

When he was dressed, he lingered in the bedchamber, reluctant to go out and face his sister-in-law and the priest. There was another door out of the bedchamber, leading to Caroline's chambers. Alex opened that door cautiously. Finding the room empty, he slipped through and was crossing the room to exit the chambers when he heard a strange gurgling moan.

He turned, scanning the candlelit room for the source and saw a pallet had been set up before the fire. A gray-haired old man lay on the pallet, linens wrapped thickly about his neck. He was trying to raise himself up, his hand reaching toward Alex, his bloodless face straining with the effort.

"Jesus wept," Alex breathed, recognizing the man-boy. He rushed to his side. "Christ, Laine! What happened?"

Laine's hand went to his bandaged throat and he shook his head.

Alex looked around the room, spying the desk beneath the high recessed window. "I'll be back." He found paper, quill, and ink and returned to Laine's side. "Can you write?"

Laine lifted his arm and flexed his hand. The painfully thin limb trembled with the effort, but Laine nodded. As Alex was trying to determine a way to prop Laine up, the door swung open and Caroline and Celia swept in.

"What are you doing?" Caroline came swiftly to Laine's side and knelt, hovering protectively over the boy. "He is grievously wounded. You must not disturb him."

Laine grasped Caroline's wrist and shook his head slightly, his face distorting in pain.

Caroline held his hand between hers and said to Celia, "Get him water."

"I know him," Alex said. "His name is Laine. He rides with me."

Her eyes narrowed disapprovingly. "This boy rides with you?"

Alex forced away the urge to fidget under her steady gaze. She made him feel the worst sort of lout.

"Where did you find him?" he asked.

"The villagers found him stumbling about the woods." She held Alex's gaze and a silent message pa.s.sed between them. I don't know how he's lived this long. By G.o.d's graces, surely. Her hand pa.s.sed over Laine's chest, parting the blanket momentarily so Alex caught a glimpse of the thick padding strapped to his chest, stained with blood.

"I've been able to communicate with him very little," she said, "as he is weak and can only answer yes and no questions." Her lips thinned. "I've tried to have Father Jasper comfort him, but the priest seems to distress him."

Alex could well believe that. Laine hated priests, but that fear came from one man, Father Rae of Rees Abbey, a man Alex wished he'd killed when he had the chance. His throat thickened as he stared disbelievingly at the boy. That Laine had come to this.

Alex held up the paper and quill. "He can read and write."

"But he hasn't the strength," she said firmly. It will kill him, her eyes said.

Alex looked at the lad and knew he would die anyway. And he was the only one who could tell him what had happened between Eliot and the Grahams. Still Alex hesitated. He would not cause the boy any more pain. His life had been miserable enough.

But Laine still possessed his own will and grasped the quill, tugging it from Alex's hand. The eyes that burned into Alex's understood that death was but a breath away.

"Let him write," Alex said. "I'll hold him up and you get something firm for him to write on."

Caroline nodded and stood. She returned with a slate for lessons and a piece of chalk. "This will be easier."

Alex lifted Laine gently. He smelled death on the boy-rotting skin, poisoned blood. Laine's breath was ragged and tortured, his pallid skin had a slightly gray hue up close. Caroline slipped the chalk into his hand and held the slate in front of him.

Laine's hand shook as he sketched out an E, then an L.

"Eliot," Alex finished.

Laine nodded. He scratched out BETRAY.

"Eliot means to betray me?"

Laine nodded again.

"How?"

FAYTH.

The slate jerked when Caroline realized what he was writing, causing Laine to trail a jagged line across the dark slate. Laine's hand dropped. Sour sweat darkened his hair, almost completely gray now.

A calm fury fell over Alex. "Did he do this to you to keep you quiet?"

Laine nodded again.

"What was it worth to him? I hope the prize Ridley offered was equal to his betrayal."

Laine's eyes were full of anger and sadness. He raised his hand unsteadily and wrote GEA. Before he could finish Alex whispered, "Gealach."

Laine's hand dropped. The chalk rolled away. The lad's eyes closed.

"I'll get Father Jasper," Caroline said, starting to rise.

Laine's eyes sprang open, his cracked lips parted, baring his teeth. "Nooo..." It came out a breath, rattling frighteningly through his chest.

Caroline froze, her eyes wide on the boy.

"No," Alex said, his voice strange and raw. "He would not want to go that way-with a strange priest giving him his last rites."

Caroline frowned, but didn't get up. "His soul must be commended to heaven."

"I know," Alex said. "I will do it."

"You? You're not a priest."

"No, I was never ordained. But a true priest will be of no comfort to him."

Caroline stared at him defiantly, obviously opposed to this latest bit of blasphemy.

Alex held her gaze, his resolve growing stronger. He'd turned away from the kirk since those years at the abbey, when he'd foolishly thought G.o.d dwelled inside a building, or manifested Himself inside the vestments of so-called holy men. What Alex meant to do now was G.o.d's will. It was right and good and he felt it to his bones.

"Get me the oil."

She held his gaze, and seeing he could not be swayed, called for Celia.

Laine slowly opened his eyes, his hand rising to grip Alex's, and mouthed, "Thank you."

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