The Chieftain: A Highlander's Heart and Soul Novel

by Maeve Greyson

“We’ve a store of torches inside a ways—if they didna find them,” Sawny whispered as he eased his way deeper into the cavern. Flints clicked together several times, cracking blue sparks into the darkness with every hit. A torch burst into flames with a reassuring whoosh, highlighting Sawny’s proud smile. He held the light high and motioned them forward. “Come. We’ve torches enough for everyone, and we’ll need them since we’re pushing through the belly of the mountain to reach the stables.”

  Catriona dreaded the journey but it couldna be helped. Sawny led the way, and she fell in step behind him since the two of them knew the bowels of the mountain better than anyone else. She’d often hidden here as a child whenever her father was in one of his drunken rages and now she understood why her mother had ne’er scolded her for such. She’d been much safer dealing with the dangers of the caverns than dealing with the dangers of her father.

  They edged their way through the damp tunnels of stone, turning sideways to squeeze through some openings and ducking low to crawl through other passages until they at last reached an open space with vaulted stone ceilings that could rival any cathedral.

  “This is where ye hid before,” Alexander said as he held his torch high and looked around. “We’ve traveled longer than the last time and yet here we are. Have ye become turned around, lad?”

  “Nay,” Catriona said as Sawny gave Alexander an insulted scowl and a shake of his head. “This vault just looks similar, but if ye know it as we do, ye ken the difference. That’s why many have died in these caverns.”

  Sawny waved his torch back toward the way they’d just come. “The ceiling. Note the swirls in those stones?”

  Alexander and his men lifted their torches, studied the markings, then nodded.

  “This is the room of the dragon,” Catriona said. “Can ye make it out?”

  “Aye.” Alexander scowled closer at the marks covering the stones. “I see it now. Good way to keep your bearings.”

  “'Tis the work of the goblins,” Sawny added with a wink and a snort.

  Alexander waved toward an opening up ahead. “Move, boy. I’d like to reach the stable before nightfall to give us plenty of time to make our way to the root cellar when it grows dark.”

  If they all made it through this uprising alive, she’d ne’er darken the innards of the earth again, Catriona swore to herself. She breathed in a deep breath of the dank air, relieved when she picked out the faint scent of horse manure and straw up ahead. “We’re nearly there.”

  “Good,” Alexander said. “I’m tired of no' being able to see the fine bounce of your arse in these shadows.”

  The rest of the men chuckled. Father William snorted the loudest.

  “Quiet now,” Catriona scolded with a hissing shush. “If anyone’s working at the back of the stable, we dinna wish to give ourselves away.”

  “We need to put our torches out and store them here,” Sawny said in a hushed tone. He gathered up all the lights and stomped them out, leaving them in an inky blackness.

  “Hold hands,” Catriona ordered, taking hold of Sawny’s hand in one hand and Alexander’s in the other. “We dinna wish to leave anyone behind in the darkness.”

  “Amen to that,” Father William said from the back of the group.

  Ducking her head, Catriona squeezed past the boulder covering the exit and wiggled into the dimly lit stable without letting go of Alexander’s hand. Alexander grunted and huffed against the confines of the passage, his broad shoulders and height complicating his entry. He finally shoved his way through and one by one, the rest of the men followed. They gathered in the wide space at the back of the rows of stalls, doing their best to move quietly amongst the straw and dried rushes scattered across the stone floor.

  “Shinny up ahead and see what ye can see, aye?” Catriona urged Sawny with a barely audible whisper. She drew in a sniff and wrinkled her nose. The tang of rotting hay and stalls sorely in need of mucking filled the air. If Murtagh were still alive, someone’s arse would be kicked and their heads would be on a platter. “I canna believe Calum is such a fool,” she told Alexander. “Filthy stables make for weak horses.”

  “He’s too weak a man to mind the business a chieftain must mind for the benefit of the clan.” Alexander motioned for everyone to lower themselves to the back wall and sit while they waited. “Do ye think ye can persuade your people to accept a female chief?”

  Alexander may as well have reached into her lungs and snatched out all her air. Catriona stared at him. “What?”

  He gave her a slow, easy smile she barely detected in the low lighting. “Ye are damned and determined to save your people only to abandon them and leave them without a leader to guide and protect them? Come now, Catriona. Ye are so much wiser than that.”

  Was he mocking her? She swallowed hard and sat taller, lifted her chin and fixed him with a narrow-eyed look. “Nay. I’ll be convincing them that their next chieftain should be yourself since ye are my husband.”

  Even in the shadowy light of the torch-lit sconces flickering on the walls, Catriona noted how Alexander’s eyes flared open wider and his jaw dropped. Good. That would teach the man to mock her. 'Twas early in their marriage. She best get the rules set straight here at the start.

  Sawny interrupted the lesson, scurrying back to them with his back bent to hide below the level of the stall walls. He made a beeline to Catriona, his face red and wet with tears. Catriona opened her arms, and he flew into them as if she were his mother. He shuddered in her arms, thumping her shoulders with his balled up fists.

  “Sawny boy, tell me?” Hugging him tightly, Catriona looked over at Alexander for help.

  Alexander patted the boy on his back and spoke in low, soothing tones. “What happened, lad? What did ye see?”

  “I’m no' weeping because I’m sad.” The boy hiccupped out sobs with great shuddering hisses of breath. “I’m feckin' mad as hell. The stable’s a pigsty and from what I saw of the paddock and side-bailey beside the kitchens, 'tis no' much better. Dung and rot everywhere and we’ve only been gone a few days. ’Tis a disgrace. I’m ashamed of me clan and what they’ve allowed to come to pass.” He shuddered with anger as he made a sweeping motion toward the stalls. “Murtagh’s soul will never find rest as long as this remains.”

  Catriona gritted her teeth and pulled in a deep breath. She had to remain calm and whilst she was at it, calm the boy. “Shhh now, Sawny. We dinna ken what’s been done to those within the keep. Calum may have locked them up.” Or worse. But she wouldna say it aloud. Calum may have gone on a killing spree. They couldna tell for certain until they’d made their way into the keep.

  Sawny pulled back and stared at her with a hatred far surpassing his years. “I want to be the one to kill him, m’lady. I beg ye. Let me avenge Murtagh. Let me avenge my clan.”

  “Ye canna kill anyone without a calm head and a well thought out plan, boy.” Alexander gave Catriona a pointed look that said I’ll handle this.

  She agreed and nodded for Alexander to take charge.

  “I want to kill him slow,” Sawny growled out through clenched teeth, tears and snot running down his face. “I want him to suffer.”

  Catriona couldna help herself. She pulled a square of linen from her sleeve and held it out to him. “Wipe your nose and your tears and calm yourself. If ye be bleary-eyed with anger, ye canna see well enough to kill.”

  Alexander rolled his eyes and shook his head. “She’s right, boy,” he said with a huff. “Settle yourself so we can figure the best way to end the bastard.”

  Sawny blew his nose and after much cursing and hiccupping, he inhaled a great gulp of air then snorted into the crumpled linen again. “Forgive me.” He waved the men closer around him then jabbed his thumb back toward the front of the stables. “I only saw two men staggering about the yard and both were heaving out what they must ha' drank last night. Smoke was coming from the kitchens so I’m thinking Cook and the scullery lads and lassies still be tending to those duties at least.”<
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  “Could we make it to the root cellar now, ye think?” Catriona stretched to look over the rows of stalls filling the cave. It appeared no one was in the stable but themselves.

  Sawny nodded. “Aye. One by one. I can go first to be certain.”

  Catriona was touched by the twelve-year-old’s bravery but he’d already experienced enough in his young life to earn him the title of man. She pulled him to her and gave him a fierce hug. “Ye watch yourself, aye? I canna bear it if anything happens to ye.”

  Sawny awkwardly pulled away, cheeks flaming and chin tucked to his chest. “I’ll be fine, m’lady.”

  “Let’s be on with it then.” Alexander shooed the boy forward and followed close behind him. Catriona hurried to claim her place as next in line and the rest of the men fell in tow.

  By the time they’d crept through the stable and reached the entrance, the outer paddock and bailey were deserted. The two men Sawny had seen were gone. One by one, they sidled their way along the walls, ducked behind barrels and wooden crates, then made a final dash across an open expanse of ground before disappearing into a small round door in the wall behind the kitchens.

  The main room of the root cellar smelled of dirt, dried herbs, and the earthiness of potatoes, carrots, and turnips. Catriona ducked beneath fragrant bundles of dried rosemary, lavender, thyme, and sage as she followed Alexander and Sawny. With darting glances back at the entrance, they wound their way around the barrels and crates of Clan Neal’s winter stores.

  Once they reached the back wall, it took them all to clear away the boxes and crates covering a small arched door that looked as though it had been sealed shut with a thick layer of mortar.

  “'Tis sealed shut,” Alexander scowled at Sawny. “How long has it been since ye were in this set of tunnels?”

  Sawny gave an impertinent roll of his eyes and retrieved an iron pry bar from the far corner. “Here. Ye see that wee hole in the base of the door? Shove this in that hole and push it to the left.”

  Giving the boy a narrow-eyed glare, Alexander took the bar and did as Sawny instructed. The seemingly sealed off door held fast for a bit then swung open into the tunnel with a great grinding and falling of dust.

  “Ye see?” Sawny scurried back to the front of the root cellar then hurried back toting a lantern. He balanced it on top of a barrel, drew the flint box out of its base, and lit the taper within it. He snatched the lantern up by the bale, handed it to Catriona, and waved everyone forward. “Follow the mistress, I’ll follow as soon as I make the root cellar appear as it was so no one will follow. I’ll be right behind ye.”

  Catriona ducked her head and entered the tunnel, relieved to discover she could stand at her full height once inside. The outer wall of the tunnel was cold to the touch and dry but the interior wall on their right was wet with sweating rivulets of moisture. A cloying stench of mold and mildew filled the air. The floor was nothing more than dirt at first, but as they climbed, the tunnel became a stone staircase winding its way up into the castle and branching out like a system of veins just beneath the keep’s skin.

  Dim recollections surfaced as she held the lantern higher. “I know this place,” she said more to herself than anyone else. Aye. She’d been here before. With Mother. She tried to remember why but could only bring back faded bits of the time gone by and it was more sensations than memory. The clammy odor of the tunnel. The chilled dampness of the air. Fear in Mother’s whispers. Her trembling hugs. Catriona forged onward, giving up on trying to remember what had happened and instead using the memory to make her way to the second floor and the hidden doorway she knew awaited in the small sitting room of the nursery.

  Aye. The nanny’s room. The perfect place to plan the next step in their attack.

  Chapter 19

  Alexander didna ken which was worse: a small room bursting at its seams with braw battle-ready men or the feeling he had verra little control o’er the mêlée about to ensue. And then there was Catriona. His wife. He felt a tender protectiveness toward her like he’d never known for anyone and it scared the living hell out of him because here she sat, damn smack middle of the fray.

  “The plan?” Graham nudged himself in between Magnus and Duncan and joined them in leaning back against the only wall in the tiny room bereft of furniture. Sutherland, Alasdair, Ian, and the priest perched on opposite sides of the shoddy narrow cot at the room’s center, their backs butted against each other. Catriona and Sawny stood wedged in the far corner between the modest nightstand and the wall. Graham scrubbed his hands together before folding his arms across his chest. “I assume the chieftain, Hew, and Duff are the first we must handle, aye?”

  “Aye,” Alexander answered with a concerned glance at Catriona. He hoped she truly realized that her brother would die this day. “Calum and his guards first. Then we’ll judge the future actions of the Neal clan and go from there.”

  “And when the others arrive?” Alasdair asked. “Campbell’s group and the king’s regiment?”

  “'Tis my hope that enough Neals from the village and surrounding crofts will join the ones in the keep siding with us and we’ll be able to hold them off long enough to reason with them and reach an understanding.” Alexander surveyed his men and their fierce scowls. Their loyalty was unquestionable and for that, Alexander was thankful. “We have the advantage inside the stronghold and we know where its weaknesses lay because we’ve breached it ourselves.”

  “Noon is upon us. Calum should soon descend from his solar to eat his meal in the main hall.” Catriona glanced out the narrow window they had all skirted to avoid discovery.

  “Can ye be certain?” Ian asked. “Did your father no' make it a habit to eat in his rooms? I never set eyes on the man during our stay here.”

  “The man was dying,” Magnus interjected. “That’s why he ate in his rooms.” He shifted his attention to Catriona. “Your brother be healthy but loves the drink as well. Think ye he’ll descend for the noonday repast or wait till the last meal of the day?”

  “Oh, he’ll descend,” Catriona said, a wry note of disgust coloring her tone. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw worked as though she were grinding her teeth. “He’ll no' want to miss an opportunity to preen like a peacock in his new status as chief.”

  “What route will he take to the hall?” Alexander asked. Calum’s chambers were here on the second floor but that didna mean he’d pass this room on his way down to his meal.

  Catriona’s scowl deepened then she elbowed her way out of the corner and shooed the men off the small cot. “Move.”

  “Move? Where?” Father William scuttled sideways, stumbling over booted feet and bumping into men.

  “I dinna care, Father, but I need this linen to make a map.” She motioned toward the cold hearth. “Pray, see if there’s a stick of burnt wood I can use.”

  Sutherland squatted down beside the hearth, taking care to keep his sheathed sword vertical and out from under anyone’s kilt. He dug around in the cold ashes of a long-ago fire and after a few moments, rose with a smile of victory and a chunk of blackened wood. He handed it over to Catriona who set to sketching out the floor plan of the keep on the linen across the bed. “We are here.” She pointed to a mark then trailed her finger along a line and tapped on another open-ended square. “This is Calum’s suite.”

  Alexander squeezed his way closer, committing Catriona’s sketch to memory. He pointed to a horizontal line running between the two squares then veering off to the right. “This will be his route?”

  Catriona nodded, eyes narrowing as she studied the crude map as though it led to treasure.

  “We will flank them here and here.” Alexander tapped on the linen, pointing to small open-ended blocks at intervals along the hall. He lifted his gaze from the sheet and looked at his brothers. “I want him dead afore he reaches those stairs.”

  “Sutherland and I will take out his pets,” Duncan said with a nod down at the map. “They always follow a step or two behind the man, close enough to
sniff at his arse.”

  “Daggers and swords only,” Alexander said. “We dinna wish to announce our presence with gunfire.”

  “I get the first stab at him,” Sawny said, bloodlust reddening his thin freckled cheeks.

  Alexander understood the boy’s need for revenge but they couldna risk it. “I know ye wish to avenge Murtagh, lad, but I’ve a better way for ye to accomplish that, ye ken?”

  Sawny glared at him, a stubborn pout already pulling down the corners of his mouth.

  Alexander handed Sawny his short sword. “I need ye to guard your mistress. I’m trusting ye to protect my wife. Will ye do that for me, Sawny? Can I trust ye to keep her safe?”

  Sawny’s demeanor changed with the swiftness of a blink. He shifted from a sullen lad to a proud, solemn young man. “Aye,” he said with a downward jerk of his chin. “I’ll keep her safe. I swear it.”

  Graham cracked open the door to the hallway, listened for a moment then looked back at Alexander. “Shall we take our posts then, brother?”

  “Aye.” Alexander stabbed the sheet with the tip of his dagger. “I’ll be waiting here for Calum.” Pointing first at each of the men and then to the sheet, he assigned them their positions. “Duncan and Sutherland, this door just past his solar. Dinna let those beasts get by ye. Alasdair and Ian, guard the base of the stairwell in case anyone harkens any cries to alarm. Graham and Magnus, take either end of the hall at the top of the stairs in case any of them make it past Alasdair or Ian.” With seven men against three, Alexander felt sure that Calum would kneel before his Maker before nightfall.

  “And what about us?” Father William asked.

  “Stay here with Sawny and Catriona and pray we dinna fail.” He took hold of Catriona’s hand and pulled her to stand in front of him. “Swear ye willna enter the hall no matter what ye hear, ye ken?” He could tell by the look on her face that Catriona wanted to be in the fight's midst but he couldna allow it. He couldna fight at his best if he had to keep one eye trained on her. “Swear it,” he repeated.