“Aye.”
“The Night of the Moon Maiden comes tomorrow. Perhaps the lass is intended to die on the altar.”
“Ach, old man! Ye’ve lost your mind, surely!”
“Strange things been brewin’.”
“Aye, like the lad.”
“The lad?” Old Ioin looked puzzled. “Ah, y’mean your brother, Danny, the wee thing caught in the mines?”
“Aye. I mean Danny,” Hamell said quietly. He looked down at the table, not meeting old Ioin’s eyes. “Danny…came out of the mines with the help of a beastie.”
“Things do indeed haunt the mines. My boy has told me so,” Ioin said grimly.
“Well, no one will be slaying a lass on the Druid Stone. We’ll all be about to see that it not happen,” Hamell said harshly. “And don’t you go ruinin’ the holiday for us all! I’ve my costume and mask set. The servants at the castle have been setting out the kegs of wine and ale all morning in preparations for tomorrow night. I’ve worked on me caber throw for the contests, and I’ve a lass to meet for the dancing! Don’t go making something eerie of the fun we’ve planned on havin’!”
“It’s the lass you’re planning on havin’, eh, boy?”
“I intend to ask her to wed,” Hamell said indignantly.
“After the…er, festivities?” Ioin suggested.
“Now, Ioin?—”
“I’d not spoil a celebration, and that’s a fact. I’m not the trouble. ’Tis the witches,” Ioin said.
“The witches?”
“Aye, Edwina and her lot, talking Mother Nature, making their herbal cures and potions and all! You look to it, boy—’twill end that the witches have some shenanigans and say in all this!”
“Don’t you be talking such rubbish!” came a sharp, feminine cry from the door.
Brother Damian, who had been deeply involved in the men’s conversation, turned in surprise to see that Edwina had come into the tavern. She wore a cloak against the chill of the November day, yet as he watched her, Brother Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“Ah, now, Edwina—” Ioin protested, his cheeks flushing.
“I’ve done nothing but good for you, Ioin Menzies!” Edwina said, coming straight to the table. “My herbs have cured those carbuncles upon your back many a time, and my remedies have soothed your old feet many a night as well.”
“Now, Edwina?—”
“Don’t you ‘now, Edwina’ me, Mister Menzies!” Edwina said angrily, and sweeping off her cloak, she went back behind the bar, drawing a pitcher of ale for a farmer who hailed her across the tavern.
Brother Damian took his chances and slid into the seat alongside Ioin Menzies. Menzies looked up at him, surprised and wary. Brother Damian smiled reassuringly. He’d been a bit of a fixture at the tavern for several days, coming and going, and building up something of a trust among the people here.
“She’s worried, you know. About Laird Douglas’s sister-in-law. And we must still find the lass.”
“Aye!” Ioin said, looking at the table.
“In truth,” he said quietly, “you know, Menzies, that I’ve come on pilgrimage to do a bit of studying on the lore hereabouts, and quite honestly, the ancient sacrifices were associated with Druid practices, and not with the Wiccans.”
“She’ll be mad at me, now,” Ioin said, sniffing toward where Edwina worked at the bar. “She’ll let my old body rot before she gives me aid again.”
Brother Damian drank deeply from his ale, then looked across the table at Hamell Anderson. “There’s been no clue here in the village as to the missing girl, eh?”
Hamell shook his head and sipped foam from his ale. “But Ioin may have a point. If witches were out for a sacrifice, they’d want the likes of an important young maid, don’t y’ think, Brother Damian?” Anderson’s eyes lit seriously upon him. “But then again, wouldn’t they be seeking the likes of someone even more important perhaps? Like Lady MacGinnis herself? Unless of course…”
“Aye, and of course, what?” Brother Damian demanded.