A Spy at the Highland Court

by Barclay, Celeste

  “Isa! Isa! Go inside!” Alasdair ran toward her as she pointed a woman in the direction of the kitchens.

  “I can’t. I have to make sure the women and children are hidden. Then I will.”

  “No. Ric told me you are to be hidden the moment we know of an attack. You have to go inside.”

  Isa pushed Alasdair away.

  “No. Whether Ric likes it or not, I’m the lady of the keep, and it’s my duty to protect our people just as much as it is his. I will deal with him when he returns. Now move, Alasdair.”

  Alasdair lifted Isa around the waist and began moving toward the keep’s steps. He had just taken the first two steps when he lurched forward, pinning Isa beneath him. He rolled to the side, groaning, and Isa looked over his shoulder. An arrow was protruding from his shoulder blade.

  “Bluidy hell that smarts. The bone stopped it, but it hurts. Isa, break off the arrow.”

  Isa rolled Alasdair back onto his belly as she placed one hand on his back and the other around the arrow. She snapped off as much of the shaft as she could before helping him to sit up.

  “Isa, you must go inside. They’re going to breach the gate, and the arrows are already landing.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know, other than they’re English.”

  “They must know Ric is away.”

  “I believe you’re right. Isa, lock yourself in your chamber. I have to go. Lock and bar the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

  Isa nodded and watched as Alasdair ran toward the battlements. Isa looked to the wall walk, where she could see men shooting their own arrows in the hoard of attackers. She watched two men push a ladder away from the wall and heard the screams of the men who fell. Isa’s eyes swept the bailey once more, and she did not see any more women or children who needed sheltering. She saw villagers equipped with trowels, spades, and pitchforks ready to defend the keep when the walls and gate were breached. Confident that there was no one left to hide, she ran toward a storeroom where she had hidden several children.

  Just as she reached the door, a tremendous creak then the sound of splintering wood filled the air. She looked back in time to see the gate burst open. She looked toward the storeroom but knew she could not make it before the enemy saw her. She would not lead warriors directly to unarmed children. She changed directions and attempted to make her way to the kitchens. If she could get inside the keep, she could get to her chamber. The smell of burning thatch caught her attention, and she spotted flames rising from the stables. Stable hands were leading the spooked horses out of the stalls as fast as they could.

  It was complete bedlam as the first wave of enemy warriors surged forward and met resistance from the men who remained to defend their homes. She watched Alasdair leap down the final three steps from the battlements and swing his sword as a man charged toward him. Alasdair sliced through the man’s ribs, and Isa felt nauseous as blood squirted from the wound. The man had been a foot soldier and did not have the armor of a knight. Isa turned back to the kitchens and began to run, her robe and chemise lifted above her feet to keep from tripping. She reached for the door, but a weight pulled her back. She spun around, swinging her fist and landing it on her attacker’s throat. She lashed out again, this time with her knee aiming for the man’s bollocks.

  “A wee wildcat we have here.” The man crowed in his English accent. “And a beauty at that. Graystone shall be happy to have you. Once I’m done.”

  The man’s other hand reached for her breast, but Isa wrenched his pinky backward then down, forcing his arm away. Rather than aim for her breast again, his gloved hand landed across her cheek. Isa continued to struggle until she noticed the handle of a knife at the man’s waist. She twisted one way then another, distracting him, until she was able to pull it free of its sheath. The next time the man raised his arm, she stabbed into his armpit where she remembered Ric’s mail did not protect him. Then she stabbed at the gap between his neck armor and collar of his hauberk.

  “You bitch. You will pay for that.”

  Isa saved her breath for her fight. She continued to lash out until the man raised his visor and gave her opening. She changed her grip easily and thrust the end of the blade into his eye. He staggered back, roaring in pain. Isa did not wait to see what happened to the man; she attempted to get to the kitchens. But a searing pain burst between her shoulder blades, then another beneath her ribs. She knew what had happened. She knew someone had recognized her in her finer fabric, perhaps even her face, and knew she was the lady of the keep. She had been struck by two arrows. She staggered several more steps before she fell against the door to the kitchens. She tried to summon the strength to pull it open, but she sunk to her knees. She heard English voices running toward her, so she allowed herself to fall forward like a dead weight. She stifled the groan and lay there without moving. As they came close enough for her to smell their body odor, she drew in a deep breath then waited.

  “She fought like a trapped she-wolf. A shame that she’s dead. I would have quite enjoyed her. I might have even waited for Hage’s return before I had my way.” There was a pause before the man carried on. “Or probably not. I doubt I would have wanted to go without a woman for that much longer.”

  “My cods ached just watching her run. Hage is a lucky man to have her in his bed. I heard they are like rabbits. She’s better than a tavern whore.” A new voice spoke, and Isa struggled to remain still as her temper rose.

  “Was. Hage was a lucky man.” A third voice came from the other side of her.

  Isa had purposely landed so her face was mostly covered that way they would not see her eyes twitch or move if she could not help it. Her lungs burned with a need for another breath, but she dared not let her back or chest move with the arrows sticking out. If they wobbled or vibrated, the men would know she lived.

  “What do we do with her, Lord Graystone?”

  “Leave her,” came the voice she had heard addressed as Graystone. She recognized the name. “Let Hage find her just as he did his mother when I was done with her.”

  Isa wanted to be sick. She felt the bile in the back of her throat as she heard the man who murdered Ric’s mother admit to the crime as though he spoke of what he ate the night before. The voices moved away from her but she still remained still. She could hear metal still clanging and the screams of the injured, so she knew the battle had not ended. The men had recognized her and come to investigate, but the fight was not lost yet.

  The battle raged on, with the Dunbars pushing the English out of the bailey and back toward the open land that surrounded the keep. With more space to move, the fighting drew out. A second wave of English fighters poured over the rise, but reinforcements came from Isa’s parents. Laird Dunbar led the charge after a messenger arrived with news of the attack. The two keeps were far enough apart for daily visits to be unreasonable, but not so far that Isa’s father could not come to her aid. It was only moments later that Ric and his men followed the English over the rise. The Dunbars defended themselves from every side.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Isa moaned in pain as gentle hands lifted her body and legs from the ground.

  “We need to get the lass to her chamber before she bleeds to death.” Isa recognized the voice of her head cook.

  “She’s a slight thing but sturdy. She has a good constitution. If this fever doesn’t take her, then we should be able to get her stitched up good as new.”

  “I doubt the chief is going to see it that way. They’re saying the man come racing over that hill, sword raised over heard like the devil himself. I’m sure I heard his war cry.”

  “Ric,” Isa moaned.

  “Aye, lass. Your man is on his way. We will just make you a bit more presentable before he finishes this nasty business outside.”

  “Hurts.”

  “I know, lass. We have Hagatha coming to tend you. She went for her medicinals and will be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” This voice came from
her housekeeper.

  “I love him. Tell him.” Isa forced out. “I love him.”

  Everything faded to black, and Isa went limp. The women rushed her inside where other warriors were beginning to trickle in or be carried in. They decided the laird’s chamber was too far to carry Isa, so they found a table and ordered screens be brought down from the upper chambers. The women cordoned off an area where Hagatha could work on Isa without anyone seeing the lady of the keep being stripped to the waist. Isa remained unconscious for the entirety of the time it took the healer to tend her wounds. A hint of fever concerned the older woman more than the actual wounds, which she packed with yarrow roots before stitching them as best she could. She spooned a tincture of willow bark tea into Isa. She had only finished moments earlier when a new form of hell broke loose in the Great Hall. The chief was home and looking for his wife.

  Ric raced over the hill as the smell of smoke and the plume reached him and his men. He cursed himself for not riding through the night again. After the incident with Hargate and Bella, Ric ordered his men to break camp and then rode throughout the night. He was not able to do the same the next night as the terrain was rougher, and he knew both man and beast were exhausted. But as he raced toward his home and Isa, he could not remember his rationale for slowing. With his sword swinging both left and right, he cut through the warriors who were on foot, aiming for any man with chain mail or no plaid. He unhorsed three knights as he charged toward the portcullis. His stomach dropped to his stirrups when he saw the battered gate and the bodies strewn about the bailey. Ric spotted Alasdair and kneed MacLellan toward his captain of the home guard.

  “Isa?”

  “Inside.” Alasdair had not seen her since he sent her to the keep. Since he had not seen her in the bailey after the gates were breached, he assumed the only place she could be was safely locked away.

  Ric nodded and spun MacLellan around and charged back out the gate. He saw the arrival of more Dunbar warriors and was not sure if he should cheer or shudder that his father-by-marriage led the party. He targeted as many of the mounted knights as he could. When there did not seem to be any left to fight, he slid to the ground and slapped MacLellan on the rump, sending the horse back to the keep. Alasdair made his way to Ric’s back, and they fought together as the numbers began to dwindle.

  A flash of white emblazoned with red shot through with gold caught his eye. He knew immediately that he had found the man who was the cause of the destruction and death that filled his home. He charged toward Graystone as the man sneered at him.

  “I saw you ride into the bailey. Did you see your dead wife? She looked so much like your mother did when she died.” Graystone taunted Ric. “The only difference is I gave your mother a good rogering before I killed her. I didn’t get the chance to do the same with your wife. A pity really because I heard she was even lustier than your whoring mother.”

  Ric picked up his pace but dropped his sword in favor of leaping at Graystone. The older man tumbled backwards as Ric’s weight landed on him. Unprepared for this type of attack, Graystone could not swing his sword nor reach for a knife. Ric pinned him to the ground then lifted his head before banging it into the ground. The metal helm rang as Graystone’s skull rattled about. Ric knew it would be worse than standing within a church bell. He ripped the helm from the man’s head and flung it away from them both. Ric lifted his opponent’s head and slammed it into the ground three more times before wrapping his hands around the older man’s throat. While Graystone was an experienced knight and still in excellent condition, he was no physical match for Ric’s larger body and superior strength. He tried to flip Ric off of him, but it only gave Ric more leverage to press his neck to the ground. Ric’s eyes caught sight of a large rock that was within reach. He brought it down over and over until Graystone’s face was no longer recognizable.

  “You thought about touching my wife. You defiled my mother. You will die, Graystone, but it won’t be here, and it won’t be now. I shall make you suffer for what you’ve done to my family. I will make sausage with your entrails and feed it to the wolves. You will know what it is to be drawn and quartered. Each part of you sent to a different corner of Edward’s realm. But before I do that, you shall dangle from the top of my pillory pole for a few days. Once the magpies have plucked out your eyes, I will bring you down. Without your sight, you won’t know what part I will hack off next.”

  Ric stood and spat on the man who he had long suspected orchestrated the raid that killed his mother. But he had never known Graystone to be his mother’s rapist and murderer. He bellowed orders to Alasdair as he pushed his legs to carry him as fast as they could back to the keep. He would find his wife’s body, and God protect anyone who attempted to keep him from her.

  Ric stormed through the doors of the Great Hall. He flung them open so hard that they slammed against the wall, making a sound that echoed even in the crowded space. He looked around but could not see anyone with the pale blonde hair that belonged to his wife.

  “Where is she?” He roared. “Where the devil is my wife?”

  He pushed past people who did not move out of his way quickly enough. He scanned the tables covered with wounded and looked at the dead bodies on the floor. When he could not find her, he headed toward the stairs.

  “Chief, she’s here!” Hagatha, the clan’s healer, called out. “She’s poorly, but she’s breathing easier.”

  Ric’s world tilted and then spun as he repeated the word “breathing” over and over.

  “She’s dead. How can she be breathing?” He muttered as he staggered toward Hagatha and two other women he recognized but whose names he could not recall.

  “Lady Isa was injured and has a fever, but she never died.” Hagatha stepped aside, so Ric could move between the screens.

  Ric looked at his wife who appeared so tiny laying on her stomach with bandages wrapped around her entire midsection. He could see her back moved with each shallow breath, but she did not move. He dropped to his knees beside her and took her hand.

  “Isa? Can you hear me? I’m home. I’ve come to take care of you, but you must promise to get better.” Ric’s voice cracked as he whispered to his wife. He looked up at the women who had clearly tended to their lady. He could not bring himself to ask what happened.

  “She was still in the bailey when the gates gave way. She’d made sure all the women and children were hidden. When Alasdair tried to bring her inside, he took an arrow in the shoulder. One of the men said they saw her break the shaft off before turning toward a storeroom. When the English stormed in, she chose to run toward the kitchens. Turns out the storeroom hid children. She refused to risk leading the English to them. She was reaching for the kitchen door when two arrows went into her back. I don’t know if they were ones shot over the wall or from a man inside, but they struck bone and muscle, not anything vital within. She has a fever already, but she’s a strong lass.” Hagatha stepped forward and rested a gnarled hand on his shoulder. “Stay with her, Chief. Talk to her like you were. Give her something to fight for, something to return to.”

  Ric nodded as he looked down at Isa’s unconscious form. She looked as peaceful as she did when she slept next to him in their bed. He brushed hair from her face and kissed her cheek.

  “Can she be moved? Can I take her to our chamber?”

  Hagatha nodded.

  “Just be slow and gentle.”

  Ric slipped his arms beneath Isa and eased her off the table. She moaned in pain, and Ric wanted to weep. He was not sure if the tears would be from guilt that he left her unprotected or joy that she was alive. He walked slowly up the stairs and stood aside as Hagatha opened the door to his chamber and then pulled down the covers. He had just laid Isa onto the mattress and covered her when her father barged in.

  “What the bluidy hell happened to my daughter? What were you thinking leaving her alone?”

  Ric straightened from leaning over the bed, and the older man took a step back.

&nb
sp; “Your daughter was doing her best to protect our people, yours and mine. She put herself at risk to ensure the women and children of this keep and village were safe. I was away fulfilling my duties to you. I was away investigating claims that crofts had been attacked near the border with the MacLellans. I had no way of knowing it was a ruse to leave Barsalloch open for attack. Men of this clan fought valiantly and were successfully pushing the English back. Isa got caught in a line of arrows.” Ric lowered his voice as he looked once more at Isa and thought she looked more like she was napping than fighting for her life. “My worst nightmare has come true. She may die just as my mother did.”

  Patrick Dunbar’s eyebrows went up at the reminder of how his son-by-marriage’s mother was killed. He had to admit to himself that he had not made the connection between Isa and Ric’s mother. Dunbar walked forward to stand beside Ric as the younger man steeled himself for the next onslaught of demands or allegations.

  “I saw and heard you and Graystone. I knew he was the reason for your mother’s death, and I assumed you knew, too. I’m relieved to know the bluidy bastard shall suffer until the very end. Ric, Isa is not your mother. She will pull through if for no other reason than because she loves you. That was obvious the moment I saw you arrive with her.”

  Ric looked at the older man in surprise.

  “Well, she said she prefers Isa now, and you are part of the clan.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Part of the family. I have failed my daughter on several accounts, but I believe I made up for some of it when I agreed to your marriage. The king told me it was a love match, but he also reassured me that it was a strong political match. As long as you continue to care for my daughter, then I release you from my service. I don’t want her near the border any longer. She was sent to court not only as part of my truce with the king, but to keep her from the instability here. Her sisters are old enough to follow suit and will be joining the queen’s ladies in the spring. I want all of my lasses away from this damnable war.”