"Good," said Elizabeth, more calmly than she felt. And then: "Let me go to Robbie. Let me say good-bye. Please."

He lay on the bloody flagstones, his head in Hannah's lap. The Hakim and Curiosity were bent over him, talking quietly together, no urgency now at all. Will had taken the babies out into the courtyard, where the maids fussed over them, bore them away to a safer place. And now Jennet wept in her mother's arms while behind them Contrecoeur murmured to his brother in Latin.

In the new quiet, Hawkeye sang a death song, telling the story of Robbie's life as he made his way through the shadowlands.

Elizabeth knelt in the blood and put her hands on him. Smoothed his hair. "Robbie," Elizabeth called to him, and then again, louder. "Robbie?"

Hannah's eyes were bright with tears. "We must let him go," she said to Elizabeth in Kahnyen'kehâka. "It is his time."

31

They buried Robbie MacLachlan and Lady Isabel the next day, and that evening Nathaniel went looking for his father. He found him in the wood behind the paddocks, perched high in an oak, deep in conversation with Jennet and Hannah.

"When Simon died," Jennet was saying, "I thoucht perhaps it was just the fairies had stolen him awa', and that he wad come back one day. Did you feel like that when your brother Uncas died?"

Hawkeye said, "I still do." And then: "Here's your father, Squirrel, come to call us to table. Why don't you girls go along now. I've been trying to have a word with him all day."

When they had run off ahead, Nathaniel said, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find you climbing trees."

"You can see a good ways from up here," said Hawkeye, dropping down as easy as a man half his age. "And that Jennet has got a story or two worth taking home."

"Squirrel will be sorry to leave her behind tomorrow."

Hawkeye nodded. His thoughts were someplace else, and Nathaniel waited for him to gather them together.

"I don't think Robbie ever expected to get back to New-York," he said finally. "Long ago some wise woman told him that he would be buried on Scottish soil. He said that to me the day we set foot on land. Said that he felt the truth of it in his gut."

Hawkeye looked around himself, at the sunset against the hills, deep gold and tawny, and he sighed. "This was the right place for him to come to die, but it ain't my place, no matter how I look at it. Ain't yours, either, from what I can tell."

In his surprise, Nathaniel stopped. "Did you think it might be?"

His father shrugged. "Don't know what I thought. I was sure before I got here how I'd feel about Carryck, but now I've seen him and it's not that simple. I don't think I've ever seen a man so tore up inside."

"It's a hard price he's paying for his mistakes," Nathaniel admitted. "But I don't see there's anything we can do for him. The Catholics and the Protestants have been at each other's throats for almost two hundred years. Even if we wanted to stay here there's nothing we could do to fix that."

Hawkeye was silent, and Nathaniel had an unsettled feeling, as if something was coming his way he couldn't predict or control. He said, "You're putting a fright into me."

"I know I am," said Hawkeye. "And with some cause. I thought about just letting what I know go to the grave with Robbie, but I couldn't live with it. I got no choice but to lay it out for you and let you make your own decisions. You and Elizabeth."

"What's this about?" Nathaniel asked.

His father put a hand on his shoulder. "Giselle Somerville," he said. "And the son she bore you the winter after you left her in Montréal those many years ago."

While his father talked, Nathaniel stood in the shadows of the forest and felt the truth of what he was saying crawl up through him and settle in his bones, word by word.

He said, "She never told me. Never said a word when I took leave from her, never sent for me."

Hawkeye pushed out a heavy breath. "I know that."

"But you believed her?"

"Not at first. Not until Robbie told me what he knew."

"Iona could have let me know." The first anger pushing up now, to be swallowed down again.

"She could have," Hawkeye said. "But then she would have had another child taken away from her. Do you think she gave Giselle up to Somerville of her own accord?"

Somerville. All the time he had been sitting in the Montréal gaol, the boy had been nearby and Somerville had kept it from him.

"All these years, Giselle thought he was in France, being raised by her mother."

"It looks that way."

"Christ," Nathaniel muttered. "Now what? Do I go looking for him, or do I leave him be? Maybe he won't want anything to do with me, or with his mother. I wish I had had more of a look at him that night in Montréal."

An ache swelled up deep inside him, like discovering a slowly seeping battle wound hours after the last shot had been fired.

Hawkeye rubbed a thumb over his chin. "You'll have to work that out with Elizabeth, son. And I expect Giselle will have something to say about it --she won't give up until she finds the boy."

"Unless Stoker finds her first."

Hawkeye inclined his head. "She's made an enemy of him, that's true."

From the courtyard gate came the sound of Squirrel's voice, calling for them. They started in that direction in silence, and then Nathaniel stopped cold.