She straightened her spine. "Are you referring to that little incident I was involved in, husband, when I accidentally walked into the middle of your training session?"

"I was."

"It's rude of you to bring that up," she announced.

He didn't look like he cared if he was being rude or not. "Staying alive is more important than hurt feelings," he muttered.

"That is true," she conceded.

Dumfries interrupted with a loud bark. Gabriel turned, called to his pet, and left the room without sparing his wife a backward glance.

Johanna thought about the conversation the rest of the afternoon. She knew she probably shouldn't have interfered in her husband's decisions regarding his clanspeople. She hadn't been able to stop herself, though. In the few months she'd been married, she'd grown quite fond of both Calum and Leila.

In truth, she was surprised by her own behavior. In the past she'd learned not to form any attachments because involvement led to caring, and then her first husband would have yet another weapon to use against her. Her affection for her staff put them in jeopardy.

Chelsea had been Johanna's first lesson. She was the cook's assistant, just about Johanna's own age, and a very sweet-tempered girl. Raulf knew Johanna enjoyed helping in the kitchens. She mentioned to him how she liked being around Chelsea because the girl had such a quick wit and found pleasure in everything she did.

Chelsea broke an egg one morning. Cook reported the loss to Raulf. He broke Chelsea's leg that afternoon. Bishop Hallwick had advised the punishment for such a grievous offense was adequate penance.

Things were as different as night and day here, however. She could have friends here and not worry about their safety.

Father MacKechnie joined them for dinner. He looked weary from his journey to and from the Lowlands but was full of news he wanted to share about the latest happenings in England.

The soldiers were all talking at once, and it was difficult to hear what the priest had to say.

"Pope Innocent is surely going to excommunicate King John," Father MacKechnie reported in a near shout so he'd be heard. "The country will soon be put under an interdict."

"What has he done to warrant such harsh treatment?" Johanna asked.

"John was determined to put his own man in the position as archbishop of Canterbury. Our pope wouldn't have his interference. He announced his choice, an outsider to England, I understand; and John, furious over the selection, gave the order not to allow the man into England."

One of the Maclaurin soldiers made a quick jest the other soldiers found vastly amusing. Johanna had to wait until the howling coming from the second table had calmed before speaking again.

"What will happen if the country is placed under an interdict?"

"The subjects will suffer, of course. Most of the priests will have to flee from England. No masses will be said, no confessions heard, no marriages performed. The only sacraments Pope Innocent will allow will be baptisms for the innocent newborns and extreme unction for the dying, providing the family can find a priest to administer the sacrament in time. It's a sorry state of affairs, Lady Johanna, but the king doesn't seem too upset by such dire circumstances."

"He'll probably rob from the churches as a method of getting even." Gabriel made that speculation. Johanna agreed.

Father MacKechnie was appalled by the possibility. "He'll burn in hell if he does," he muttered.

"His soul's already lost, Father."

"You cannot know for certain, lass."

Johanna lowered her gaze. "No, I cannot know for certain."

Father MacKechnie changed the subject. "Prince Arthur's dead," he announced. "Some think he died at Easter-time four years ago."

Father MacKechnie paused. "There's talk the prince was murdered."

Gabriel was watching Johanna now. He noticed her complexion had turned as pale as milk.

"He probably was murdered," Calum said.

"Yes, but the question plaguing the barons is…"

"Who killed him," Calum supplied.

"Exactly," the priest agreed.

"What is the current speculation?" Gabriel asked.

"Most of the barons believe King John had Arthur killed. He's denying any knowledge of his nephew's fate, of course."

"The king is the only one with a strong motive," Calum said.

"Perhaps," Father MacKechnie agreed.

"A toast to a fair day's work."

The shout came from Keith. The Maclaurin soldiers all stood with their goblets in their hands. The MacBain soldiers followed. They met between the two tables, struck their goblets against each other's, and then downed what was left of the dark ale. Most of the drink had spilled to the floor.

Johanna excused herself from the table. She went upstairs to collect her bag with her half-completed tapestry, needle, and threads and then returned to the hall. She sat down in one of the chairs and began to work.

She had just pulled the first stitch through the burlap when she was asked to move.

"You're sitting in the MacBain chair, m'lady," Keith advised. He stood in front of Johanna with his hands clasped behind his back. Three other Maclaurin soldiers stood behind their commander. They blocked her light, and every one of them looked terribly concerned over what they obviously considered to be a serious slight.

She let out a sigh. "It matters where I sit, doesn't it, Keith?"

"Aye, m'lady. You're wearing the Maclaurin colors tonight. You should be sitting on the Maclaurin cushion."

The three soldiers flanking their leader immediately nodded.

She didn't know if she wanted to laugh at the disgruntled-looking soldiers or shout at them. A hush descended over the group as they waited to see what she would do.

"Let her sit where she wants to sit," a MacBain soldier shouted.

Johanna found the entire situation ludicrous. She peeked around the soldiers to look at her husband, hoping for a bit of guidance. Gabriel was watching her, but he didn't show any outward reaction to what was going on. He was leaving the decision to her, she supposed.

She decided to placate the Maclaurins. It was still Thursday, after all. "Thank you for your instruction, Keith, and for being so patient with me."

She tried to sound sincere. She couldn't quite keep the amusement out of her voice though. The men moved back when she stood up. One even bent down to move her bag of threads for her.

Johanna walked to the other side of the hearth and sat down in the Maclaurin chair. She adjusted her skirts, tucked in a loose pleat, and then picked up her tapestry again and went back to work.

Her head was bent to her task. She pretended intense concentration, for the Maclaurins were still watching her. When she heard several grunts that she assumed were rude noises of approval, she had to bite her lower lip so she wouldn't start laughing.

Father MacKechnie stayed by Gabriel's side throughout the rest of the evening. He was catching his laird up on all the latest happenings with the other clans. Johanna found the discussion fascinating. The topic was feuding, and it seemed to her that every clan in the Highlands was currently involved in some sort of an argument. The reasons the priest gave for the warring were even more astonishing to her. Why, the slightest breach or insult set tempers boiling. Sneezing seemed to be enough of a reason to go into battle.

"The Highlanders like to fight, don't they, Father?" Johanna didn't look up from her tapestry when she called out her question.

Father MacKechnie waited until the Maclaurin soldiers had filed out of the hall before answering her. Johanna was pleased to see the men leave. They were so loud and rambunctious, and it was difficult to discuss anything without shouting every word.

It was blissfully quiet once the men had taken their leave. None of them had bothered to bow to their mistress. She tried not to take offense, for at least they had given her husband that bit of respect.