"Aye. Ronson watches yer dog," he said with amusement. "Tell me the two o' them do no' simply follow ye around the keep all the livelong day."
"How did ye ken th--?" Catching herself, she stopped and clucked her tongue with irritation at giving herself away.
"Because they have been following me around in yer absence every time I left yer room," Niels answered her unfinished question, his tone dry. "'Tis obvious the lad usually follows ye around. Any question I asked about ye, he kenned the answer to."
Edith stiffened and turned to eye him suspiciously. "What kind o' questions?"
She was not soothed by the wide grin that suddenly claimed his lips.
"Ah, m'lady, I can no' tell ye how pleased I am to see ye up and about and well."
Edith turned quickly and smiled at Cawley as he claimed the spot on her other side and took her hand.
"I knew they could save ye," Cawley told her, squeezing the hand he held. "Thank God Tormod listened to me and finally agreed to let them in to tend to ye else ye'd have surely died."
"God's blood, Cawley," Tormod growled, dropping onto the bench next to him. "I was following orders. Once the lad pointed out that his brother might be able to save our lady, I let them in, did I no'? Despite the fact I'll probably be flogged fer it?"
"Oh flogged," Cawley said with disgust. "What's a little flogging when our lady is alive and well?"
"I do no' ken. Why do I no' take ye out front and give ye the floggin' I'll most like receive when the laird returns and then ye can tell what a little flogging is?" Tormod said grimly.
"Oh now, Tormod," Cawley said with alarm.
"I would no' do that and ye ken it," Tormod said on a sigh, and then asked, "Did ye talk to the cook, like I asked?"
"O' course I did," Cawley said at once.
"And?" Tormod asked.
"And he could no' remember who took the stew up to Lady Edith that made her sick," Cawley admitted unhappily.
"And?" Tormod repeated.
"And what?" Cawley asked warily.
"Is that it?" Tormod snapped. "I have been running meself ragged overseeing the men at practice and running the servants in Lady Edith's absence. I asked ye to do one thing, one thing--question the cook and his maids in the kitchen and find out what ye can--and that's all ye come back to me with?"
"Oh, well . . . I did try," Cawley said anxiously.
"No' hard enough," Tormod growled. "If we can no' sort out who put the poison in her food and drink then Lady Edith is still in danger. Get yer hairy arse into the kitchen and watch the food, make sure no one puts poison in anything. And ask questions while ye're there. Find out what ye can."
Cawley nodded eagerly and stood.
"And tell Cook he'd best make and bring out Lady Edith's food himself and never take his eyes off it while he does, because if she is poisoned again, I'll hang the two o' ye from the castle wall and let crows pick yer bones."
Eyes wide, Cawley nodded and waddled quickly off to the kitchens.
Tormod watched him go and then turned to the table with a sigh and muttered, "That ought to keep him out o' our hair for another day or two."
"Aye," Edith murmured and then glanced to Niels and noted his expression.
"Cawley is special," Tormod said when Edith hesitated to explain.
"Special?" Niels asked dubiously.
"Aye," Edith agreed. "He has a tendency to . . . er . . ."
"He tells tales," Tormod said mildly. "A lot. While he just claimed to Edith that he argued that you be let in, when Brodie returns he'll tell him just as earnestly, and right in front of her, that he tried to warn me against going against his orders and opening the gate to ye."
When Niels looked to her, Edith nodded solemnly. "It is what he's always done."
Niels pursed his lips and then asked Tormod, "So which is true? Did he argue you should let us in or keep us out?"
"Both," Tormod said with a scowl. "That is the hell of it. He never truly lies, he just . . ." He hesitated and then explained, "When ye first got here he argued we'd best no' let ye in, and reminded me Lady Victoria had said we were to let no one in. And then when ye mentioned yer brother was a healer and might save her, he argued I should let you in. But the moment I agreed, he began to argue that we should not."
Niels shook his head and asked with bewilderment, "Why is he the second here?"
"Because he is my father's half brother and he wanted to take care of him," Edith said quietly.
Niels eyebrows rose at the bald announcement, and then he asked, "Half brother?"
"'Tis a sad story," Tormod warned him, and then told it so that Edith didn't have to. "Ye see, the old bastard laird, Edith's grandfather, had banished Cawley and his mother when Cawley was but a lad. But Edith's father knew about it, and when the old man died he wanted to make up fer his behavior. He found Cawley, brought him here and made him his second, but then he made sure we all understood that it was in name only. When we say Cawley is special, we mean he's no' quite right in the head."
"My grandfather did no' just banish Cawley and his mother," Edith explained. "As a young boy Cawley somehow found out that my grandfather was his father. He approached him and told him he knew. I do no' ken what he was hoping to achieve. He probably just wanted a father, he was just a boy, no older than Ronson at the time, but Grandfather was enraged. He beat him horribly . . . nearly to death. And then he banished them both. Cawley's mother carried him away and did the best she could, but while his body healed, his mind was never the same again." She shrugged helplessly. "My father used to take them food and coins to try to help them get by, but could do little more than that until his father died."
"I see," Niels said quietly.
"The problem is that Cawley likes to be the center o' attention," Tormod said quietly. "If he is no' kept busy he will insinuate himself into everything and tends to cause confusion and strife."
"So, ye keep him busy," Niels said with understanding.
"Aye, and usually in the kitchens," Tormod said with a wry smile. "Because the one thing he likes best in the world is his food. In fact the minute he's in the kitchen he'll forget everything I told him and simply concentrate on eating."
"We think it is because he and his mother were nearly starving for so long," Edith said softly. "Now he eats all he can fer fear there will be no more tomorrow."
"Aye," Tormod said sadly. "Fortunately, Cook is a good-natured sort and simply sits him in a corner with bowl after bowl of food and lets him jabber away."
"So ye did no' mean it when ye said Cook had best make and bring out Edith's food himself and--"
"Oh, aye, I meant it," Tormod interrupted with a grim smile. "But it does no' matter if Cawley tells him, because I told Cook that meself last night, and again this morning."