"This morning when I went doon tae kirk I heard that she killed three dogs yesterday at the baitin', wi' nary a scratch on her."

This was no comfort at all, but Hannah did not like to distress Jennet about something she could not help, and so she changed the subject. "The French ladies left while you were gone," she said.

"Awa' tae find the young one a husband," agreed Jennet. "Perhaps she'll ha' better luck in Edinburgh."

"Monsieur Contrecoeur stayed behind." It was not a question, but Jennet understood it as one. She tucked a bit of bread into her cheek like a squirrel, chewing thoughtfully.

"He'll stay until Faither Dupuis passes ower," she said. "Perhaps longer--the earl doesna like tae be wi'oot a priest."

Now that they could talk openly about this--Hannah was relieved to be able to ask the questions that most bothered her--she hardly knew where to start. She said, "How many of you are there? Catholics, I mean."

"No' sae many. The Hopes, Laidlaws-- my mither's folk, ye ken--alang wi' the MacQuiddys, the Ballentynes, and the rest o' the earl's men. And Gelleys, o' course."

"But you go to kirk anyway with the Protestants?"

Jennet looked at her as if she were soft in the head. "O' course. We must live in the world as Presbyterians, for there's nae place in Scotland for Catholics these days. We aa attend kirk, even the earl. Granny says it taxes the brain but it does the soul nae harm tae listen tae Holy Willie. Do ye miss goin' tae Mass since ye're here?"

"To Mass?"

Her confusion seemed to irritate Jennet. "Ye're baptized Catholic, and that by a Jesuit, were ye no'?"

Hannah had been baptized, it was true, as were many of the Kahnyen'kehâka at Good Pasture. Some had let the priests have their way out of curiosity, some because they did not want to offend them. But Jennet seemed to think that the baptism brought some kind of change with it, when Hannah knew that just the opposite was true among her mother's people. They might listen with interest to the stories of Jesus, but that did not stop them from praying to Ha-wen-ne'-yu or performing the six thanksgiving rites that divided the seasons. The two had nothing to do with one another.

"I am baptized, but I am not Catholic," Hannah said firmly.

Jennet snorted through her nose. "The Protestants wadna agree wi' ye."

And of course this was true. Mr. MacKay rose before her mind's eye, sputtering his disgust and delighted with the proposition of her burning in hell for all eternity. Papists among the savages. She did not like to think of him, especially now with her father and Elizabeth secretly away in Moffat.

"A rider," said Jennet, her face transforming instantly into high curiosity. She stood, one arm slung around the trunk of the tree, to get a better view.

"'Nezer Lun," she said, looking troubled now. "I've nivver seen the man move sae fast."

The horse and rider had already disappeared into the courtyard by the time the girls had managed to scramble down the oak, and now they could hear more horses coming at a gallop. Inside the courtyard men were shouting for the earl.

The riders appeared, three of them, and drew up their mounts just outside the gate.

"An attack," whispered Jennet, suddenly very pale. And then, to Hannah's back as she ran off: "Wait! Ye canna!"

Hannah whirled, and threw out her arms. "But I can, I must. It's my grandfather and Robbie, and my father, too--" And she was away, with Jennet close behind.

Nathaniel watched the earl stride down the courtyard toward the gate, his men a solid wall at his back. He wondered what was in his father's head right now, to see Carryck for the first time. To see the line of his own brow, the set of his jaw, the very shape of his own shoulders in a stranger, and to know now what he had been told was true: this man was his first cousin, and his own father had been born to this land.

When the earl stood before them, Hawkeye raised his voice, hard and sure. "Dan'l Bonner of New-York State. I'm here to claim the rest of my family. My two granddaughters, and Curiosity Freeman. Send them out to me here."

In the full force of the late afternoon sun Carryck looked drawn and older than his years, a yellowish cast to his skin. But his voice was strong and unwavering.

"You are welcome tae Carryckcastle, Daniel Bonner. I would like tae speak wi' ye, in private. Will ye no' come in and drink wi' me?"

For a long moment they watched each other, two old lions each in his full power and strength, neither willing to concede to the other.

"I will," said Hawkeye finally. "If you agree to call your man Moncrieff to account for the wrongs he has committed against me and mine. If you agree to let us pass when we decide it's time to go."

Beside Nathaniel, Robbie shifted in his saddle, still scanning the crowd of men in the courtyard for some sign of Moncrieff, and finding none. Then Hannah came up to him, and he leaned down to put a hand on her head.

The earl spoke over his shoulder. "Dagleish," he said. "Fetch Moncrieff here. Dinna tell him why. And take twa men wi' ye in case he should resist."

He raised his voice again. "My men will fetch Moncrieff fra' the village, and ye can call him tae account in front o' this company. Ye are free tae leave whenever ye like. Now, will ye accept my hospitality?"

"If it's meant for all of us, aye. Us and the others, who come after."