Joanna Fulford

by His Lady of Castlemora

  ‘Yes, Nell must come too. Murdo will kill her otherwise.’

  He had no trouble believing it so there was only one possible answer. ‘Very well, but make haste.’

  Pausing only to snatch up a cloak the two women followed him into the passageway. They had just reached the outer door when they heard raised voices from the hall.

  ‘They’ve heard the racket,’ said Jock.

  ‘They could’ve heard the racket in Dunfermline,’ replied Ewan. ‘What the hell were you doing?’

  ‘Never mind.’ Ban seized Isabelle’s hand. ‘Just run for it.’

  * * *

  Forgetting about stealth they fled through the orchard. Behind them the sound of voices grew louder. Once Isabelle stumbled and would have fallen but for the strong, supporting hand round hers. When they reached the wall Jock and Ewan vaulted across. Then Ban swept Isabelle up and tossed her over to them. Having done the like for Nell he jumped over as well and then all five of them raced for the wood. Although the distance was relatively short it seemed to take for ever before they reached the trees where Davy waited with the horses. Seeing the women he grinned at his companions.

  ‘You did it!’

  ‘Aye, and now yon wolf pack knows we did,’ replied Ewan. ‘We need to put some space between us, and fast.’

  Davy led the horses forwards. Jock mounted and reached a hand down to Nell. ‘Ride pillion behind me, mistress.’

  Breathless now, Nell could only nod. When she was safely ensconced, Ban turned to Isabelle, tossing her up on to his own horse. Then he mounted behind her, locking an arm about her waist. In the distance they could hear more shouting. Turning the horses’ heads the little group rode away through the trees and thence up the track to the top of the hill, retracing their earlier route. The path was clear even in the summer half-light and the horses made good speed. When they reined at the top of the hill Ban glanced back. Even at that distance he could see a flurry of activity below and then the clatter of horses’ hooves on stone. Pursuit was imminent. He knew they would never outrun it when two of their horses carried extra weight. Moreover he guessed that Murdo would split his force to pick up their trail. In that they would be assisted by the light of the rising moon.

  * * *

  After several miles at a breakneck pace the fugitives came at length to a stand of trees and the men slowed, reining in beneath the sheltering canopy. For a moment or two they listened. In the distance they heard the muffled thud of hooves.

  ‘We must find somewhere tae lie low, my lord, or we’re dead meat,’ said Jock.

  ‘Aye, but where?’ asked Ewan.

  Isabelle took a deep breath. ‘There is a cave in the wood beyond the next hill. It’s big enough to take men and horses.’

  ‘How far, my lady?’ demanded Ban.

  ‘Two miles perhaps.’

  ‘Tell me the way.’

  Under her instruction he headed into the trees and thence along the right-hand fork of the trail. The horses were blowing hard, their necks and flanks streaked with sweat and flecked with lather. At this rate they would soon be spent. Isabelle thanked her lucky stars that she had ridden this country for the majority of her life and knew it well. She had found the cave by chance while out on one of her illicit solo rides. It was in a rocky outcrop set back off the trail and its entrance was not visible from the track below. Nor was there any sign of it ever having been inhabited, save perhaps by wild beasts. It might give them a chance, if they could reach it in time; if Murdo’s men didn’t know about it. Otherwise she and all her companions would be caught in a trap. The thought brought cold sweat to her forehead.

  The horses plunged on, across a small stream and up the slope, their breathing laboured now. Relentlessly the riders spurred them forwards. Behind them the echo of hoofbeats grew louder; a sinister rhythmic drumming that struck terror into the heart like a pronouncement of impending doom. When she glanced back Isabelle could see a line of fire bright against the darkening land. Torches! Murdo’s men would use their light to follow the trail. It seemed to be taking for ever to reach the top of the hill. It had not seemed so large before. Eventually they reached the summit and then began the hazardous descent, the horses plunging and sliding down the trail, bushes slashing at their legs and flanks. Then they were into the trees again and the pace slowed a little.

  By the time they reached the rocky outcrop it was clear the horses couldn’t go on much further, burdened as they were. With unspeakable relief she recognised the narrow path that led up to the cave. The dark mouth yawned before them. Dismounting hurriedly, Ewan threw his horse’s reins at Davy.

  ‘Take him. I’ll go and wipe our tracks as far as I can.’

  He seized a fallen branch and raced away leaving the others to enter the cave. Ban dismounted and then lifted Isabelle down. His hands lingered a moment on her waist.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  She nodded, aware of him to her very fingertips. ‘Aye, my lord.’

  ‘We may outwit them yet. Take Nell and get as far into the cave as you can.’

  Without argument the two women obeyed. Presently Isabelle felt the cold stone wall at the rear of the cavern and turned with her back to it, clutching Nell’s arm. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she could just make out the dark mass of the horses, just catch the sound of their breathing. The blood pounded in her ears. It was echoed by another rhythm: the drumming beat of galloping hooves drawing nearer. Hardly daring to breathe she listened as the sound increased. Then she heard men’s voices and caught through the trees below the flicker of torchlight. Isabelle shut her eyes and swallowed hard, praying. A noise in the cave mouth made her start. Then she realised it was Ewan returning. Had he been able to erase their tracks in time?

  The drumming changed tempo, slowed and then stopped altogether. The searchers had slowed their horses to a walk. She could visualise the leading riders, grim faced, hard-eyed, looking for the trail by the light of the torches. Her overwrought imagination heard the chink of harness, the creak of saddle leather. These were men battle-hardened, accustomed to the outdoors, well used to tracking and guided almost by the scent of fear. They would relish this chase. When they ran their prey to ground they would flush it by whatever means necessary and, having it fast, would destroy it. Ban and the rest would be slain where they stood, she and Nell dragged back to Murdo. Almost she could see the cold ruthless gaze, the pitiless eye that would delight in her fear and seek to enhance her humiliation. He would make her watch the deaths of her companions before he carried her by force back to Castlemora. Then... The very thought was enough to freeze the blood. There was no hope of effective resistance. Murdo had the power to do with her whatever he wished. Isabelle trembled, feeling sick with revulsion. Before she would permit that to happen she would make an end of her life at the point of a dagger.

  She waited, nerves stretched to screaming point, as the voices came closer and she could make out individual words.

  ‘...lost the trail...might have doubled back...fan out...’

  She heard hoof falls on dry earth and the clink of an iron shoe on stone. They must be right below the hiding place. If they looked up they would see only trees and undergrowth and then the rock wall. If you didn’t know the path was there you would miss it. She had only found it by chance. Please, God, let them be deceived. Hardly daring to breathe she clutched Nell’s arm more tightly. Seconds crawled by like hours. Then the voices moved away and the flickering lights with them. Silence formed and grew and became oppressive. Then the hoofbeats sounded again but they too gradually faded into the distance.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ she breathed.

  Nell squeezed her arm murmuring, ‘Thank heaven.’

  No one moved for several minutes more; then she heard Ban’s voice, soft through the gloom.

  ‘They’ve ridden on.’

  Isabelle felt weak with relief. ‘Will they return, my lord?’

  ‘Possibly, but I think it unlikely they will find this place
. You chose well, my lady.’

  She could make out only his outline, dark against the lighter gloom at the cave mouth, but his presence was solid and reassuring.

  ‘We will remain here tonight and move at first light,’ he went on. ‘The horses are tired and it’s too dangerous to go on anyway.’

  Again she realised just how much he was risking for her sake. Instinctively she reached out a hand and let it rest on his sleeve.

  ‘Thank you.’ Even as she said the words they sounded woefully inadequate to her ears.

  ‘Did you think I would leave you behind?’

  ‘In truth I have not been able to think at all.’

  ‘That is hardly to be wondered at in the circumstances.’ His hand closed over hers. ‘I am only sorry that I did not guess the extent of Murdo’s treachery.’

  ‘No one could have guessed it.’

  ‘He will pay for what he has done this day, Isabelle, I swear it.’

  A lump formed in her throat and it was impossible to speak. Correctly interpreting her silence he squeezed her hand gently.

  ‘Try to get some rest. It will be a long hard day tomorrow and we are still far from safety.’

  He left her then to go and speak with his men. Feeling utterly bereft she watched him go; then turned back to her companion. They found a level space at the rear of the cave and lay down, rolled in their cloaks, huddled together for comfort. The earthen floor was hard and the night air cold now and Isabelle shivered. For a long time sleep eluded her and her ears strained to catch every sound in the still night. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and she could make out the shapes of the men some yards off. Despite the reassurance their presence afforded it could not dispel the chill of realisation that in the broader scheme of things she was alone. With father and brother dead her situation was dire indeed. However, even that did not match the desolation she felt at their loss. Her father had at least lived to the full. It was his time to go. Hugh should have had his whole life ahead of him; not been cut down in first flush of manhood. Grief mingled with loathing for his killer.

  She might have escaped for the time being but knew full well the danger was far from over. Murdo was single-minded in the pursuit of his goals and patient too. He would stop at nothing to find her. The thought of that eventuality made her feel sick. Death would be preferable. The only glimmer of light in all the present gloom was that Ban had come back for her. She had never been more thankful for anything in her life, but for the first time it occurred to her that he might have other motives than rescuing her from Murdo’s clutches. With Hugh’s death she was no longer a widow with a meagre dowry; she was heiress to Castlemora. Had that been part of Ban’s calculations when he rescued her?

  * * *

  At some point amid these thoughts she eventually fell into an uneasy sleep and woke at dawn, feeling stiff and cold, aching from the ride and the hard ground. However, not for the world would she have complained. Raising herself on to one elbow she looked around. Beside her Nell was still asleep. The men were stirring though. Further off she saw Ban speaking to Jock and Davy. Their voices were soft and she could not hear the words, only a murmur of conversation. The young man called Ewan stood on guard at the cave mouth, surveying the quiet woodland.

  Isabelle rose slowly and straightened her dishevelled garments. Then she fastened her cloak about her shoulders for the air was cool yet. For a moment or two she hesitated and then moved towards the others. Sensing her approach Ban looked round.

  ‘Good morning. I hope you managed to get some sleep.’

  The tone was courteous but his expression was hard to read. It did nothing to alleviate her confusion. The knowledge of what she owed him was counterbalanced by her doubts about his real motives.

  ‘I did, my lord.’

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

  In that moment she realised that she was, having eaten nothing since the previous day and precious little then. She watched him take a small bundle from the saddlebag. He handed her a small portion of bread and cheese.

  ‘Scant fare, I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘but it will stave off hunger the while.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Take some for your companion too.’

  As she took the offering his fingers brushed hers, unintentionally perhaps, but the touch sent a charge along her skin. His hands were strong and capable; hands that could wield a sword or dagger or hold a woman close. When she recalled some of their other qualities it brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks, and in confusion she addressed herself to the food. Thankfully he had turned away to supply his men, thus failing to see her discomfiture.

  She found a convenient rock to sit on and ate her portion. Having done so, she took the other to Nell. The older woman groaned and roused herself with difficulty, for the night spent on hard ground had taken its toll, but she said no word of complaint. Instead she smiled at Isabelle and took the food gratefully.

  At length the horses were saddled and the fugitives remounted, leaving the shelter of the cave and descending the narrow path into the wood. Wreaths of mist lingered in the hollows and wound about the grey trunks of the trees where, hidden from view, birds sang. Progress was slow at first, for Ban had no wish to stumble unawares on an enemy camp or a chance patrol.

  Isabelle, riding pillion now, watched the undergrowth closely for any sign of movement that might suggest an ambush. Nothing stirred. Even so they spoke soft for sound carried in the still air.

  ‘When we get out of the trees we’ll pick up the pace,’ he told her.

  ‘How far are we from Glengarron?’

  ‘About a day and a half,’ he replied, ‘as near as I can estimate.’

  Her heart sank. ‘Still so far?’

  ‘Far enough,’ he conceded, ‘but we’ll get there.’

  ‘Will we?’ She paused. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to doubt you. It’s just that I cannot help feeling afraid.’

  ‘I can understand that, given the nature of the enemy, but he won’t take you back.’

  She experienced a twinge of guilt. He had risked much for her sake, was still risking much, when he could have abandoned her and saved his own skin. And still so many perils lay ahead. On the other hand she was now a considerable prize; valuable enough to be worth the risk involved. Their betrothal had only ever been a business arrangement but now the stakes had increased dramatically. When he came back for her he knew she would go with him because there was no alternative.

  Riding so close to him she was at leisure to observe without being seen. Her eyes followed the strong line of his back to the broad shoulders and the tawny hair that curled over the collar of his tunic, and thence to the hollow of his neck, the familiar planes of cheek and jaw, the curve of his mouth. If he turned round their lips would be close enough to kiss. She blinked back tears as desire competed with suspicion.

  * * *

  Once clear of the trees Ban picked up the pace to a steady canter that covered the ground without tiring the horses too much. The time might yet come when they would need every bit of speed the animals could summon. As they rode they kept sharp watch, looking for any evidence of their pursuers, but the landscape was empty and they advanced unchallenged. Guessing the road would be the first place that Murdo’s men would watch, Ban chose a cross-country route using sheep tracks and narrow ways, avoiding the crests of the hills where they would be on view for miles around and using the natural features of the landscape to hide their progress.

  * * *

  At noon they stopped to water the horses and to rest awhile. The men took it in turns to keep watch.

  Seeing the women refreshing themselves at the stream Ban took his companions aside for a quiet word.

  ‘We make good progress,’ he said, ‘but we’re not home yet and Murdo is not the type to give up his prey easily.’

  ‘Would that we might get word tae Glengarron,’ said Ewan. ‘Reinforcements would be welcome just now.’

  ‘Aye, they would,’ agre
ed Davy. ‘I’m ne’er one to run from a fight, but odds of ten to one are no so good.’

  Ban glanced towards the two women feeling all the weight of his responsibility. Isabelle’s vulnerability seemed all the more pointed. Somehow he must get her to safety. There would be time enough to think after that. Since their escape from Castlemora her manner to him had been different somehow; it was courteous but at the same time a little more aloof as though something preyed on her mind. Given what had happened in the last few days it wasn’t surprising. Her father’s death had been bad enough but with Hugh’s murder on top of that... Ban vowed silently that he would keep his promise. Murdo would answer for his crime. In the interim Isabelle needed time to grieve. When they reached Glengarron he could give her that at least.

  * * *

  Only once in the course of that day did they see evidence of the enemy, a small patrol of a dozen men, but they were fully half a mile away and moving south, parallel to the fugitives’ present course. Ban reined in.

  ‘Will they see us?’ asked Isabelle.

  ‘No, they’re not even looking in our direction.’ He frowned as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. After a moment he found Jock alongside. The craggy face was grim.

  ‘Are ye thinking what I’m thinking?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably,’ replied Ban.

  Ewan looked from one to the other. ‘What is it, my lord?’

  For answer Ban nodded in the direction of the distant riders now drawing away, evidently riding fast. ‘Look yonder.’

  Ewan frowned. ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘Murdo has moved his men ahead of us. It’s why we haven’t seen hide or hair of them since last night. He knows he can move much faster than we and he’s planning to throw a cordon of patrols across our way.’

  Ewan frowned. ‘Cut us off from Glengarron, ye mean?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  A tense silence followed.

  Jock threw Ban a wry glance. ‘What now?’

  ‘We have to get word to Glengarron. It’s our only chance. One of us must go on ahead and find a way through Murdo’s patrols.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right. Will I get going then?’