“He’s more than handsome. I vow I wished my betrothed had such muscles. Och I am still pleased though even if Ager is reedy and lanky.” Oliva chuffed and fell back with a sigh.
She shoved her friend’s shoulder and Oliva tossed a handful of grass at her. “At least your husband won’t have a huge stomach when he is old.”
“We shall see. You will wed someone as prosperous and handsome,” Olivia said, pulling her hair into a tail and twisting it to the side. “Who knows, the earl’s nephew might be fair to look upon.”
“Or he could look like a goat. I shall find out if my errant groom ever shows up to claim me.” Makenna jested about the situation, but deep down in her heart, she worried over it. At the rate she was going it was unlikely she’d ever wed.
Olivia giggled and released the blades of grass she held.
Makenna gazed at the road leading up to the keep again and drew a breath. She saw the glint of swords and frowned. Something wasn’t right. “Olivia … I don’t deem those men on the road are of our clan. There looks to be turmoil.” She stood and set her hand above her eye to shield her eyes. “We should return.”
“We should stay here if there is trouble.” She backed a few steps and turned to peer behind her as if she would flee without any regard for others. “Come with me. We will hide.”
“I must go and make sure my mother and sister is unharmed.”
Olivia gazed at her feet. “I am not going back. Oh, gracious, Makenna, look there’s fire.”
Her breath stilled seeing the waft of smoke in the air above the village. There was definitely trouble. She scowled deeply at her friend for her cowardice, but understood. “Flee to safety. I shall go.” With a racing heart, she sprinted back to the tunnel. Admittedly, she was fearful, but her family was important to her and she would ensure they were safe.
Makenna didn’t look back at her friend, but ran most of the way, even when she’d reached the opening of the tunnel. She stopped where it ended at the keep’s garrison below the living quarters and listened. Screams and yells sounded from above. With haste, she took the stairs until she reached the first floor.
The main floor of the keep, where the great hall situated below the family solar was ransacked. Banners lay shredded on the floor and tables toppled. She hurried past and took the steps until she reached her mother’s solar. Without caution, she entered.
“Mother,” Makenna called, but she stopped upon seeing her mother on the floor. Blood stained her garments. Her eyes shot to her mother’s maid, Ealish, who lay next to her. A mass of red soaked the back of her tunic. She gasped and was about to run to her when she heard a man’s voice.
“Who have we here?”
Makenna turned and saw a light-haired man walking toward her. His armor stained with blood, as well as the mail covering his arms. He wore soiled gloves and lifted his hands to brush back his tawny locks. Beyond him, two dark-haired men held her sister’s arms.
“Run, Makenna. Go and flee.” Her sister implored her with wide, frightful shadowy eyes.
But she couldn’t move for fear apprehended her. The man approached and grabbed her face with pinching fingers. He moved around her and held her close. She was wont to pull away, but all she could do was look at Roberta’s terrified face.
“Your sister, I presume? Bring her here,” he said, tightening his hold on her. “You two look nothing alike. One light and fair, and the other bright and winsome.”
Two men pushed Roberta forward and snickered, and one of his lackeys asked, “Where do ye want her, Sir Hawk?”
With his free hand, the man called Sir Hawk, brushed all the items from her mother’s table onto the floor. “Here.”
When the men threw Roberta on the table, Makenna flung forward. Sir Hawk held fast to her cloak and she was able to escape him when she pulled herself free of its ties. She encircled her arms around her sister knowing she had to protect her. “Are you harmed?”
Roberta shook her head.
Sir Hawk discarded her cloak, pulled a dagger free, and yanked Roberta across the table by her foot. He gripped her overdress and cut her garments from one end to the other. “Ah, is she not lovely? As fair as a glowing sunrise.”
The two men accompanying him cackled with laughter.
Makenna tried to pull her sister back, but the man shoved her away. Her sister wept and she felt her pain and humiliation all the way to her heart.
“Please, don’t hurt us. Let us be.”
But her plea was lost on Sir Hawk, for he grabbed her, and twisted her hair in his fist. He held her in place, against him and sneered at her sister. His dagger pressed her cheek and Makenna stilled. He continued to hold her security with his forearm beneath her breasts and his breath rasped against her face.
He whispered harsh words in her ear, causing her to still further. “’Tis not you, Red, that I want right now. Tell your sister to cooperate or my dagger will inflict its worse on ye.”
Makenna swallowed hard. “Nay, I won’t tell her that, you knave. Do you will then and kill me for I will never tell my sister to submit to you.”
“I can arrange that, little wren, but after I get my reward.” He gripped her forcibly and settled his dagger closer to her ear. The hardness between his legs purposely pressed her thigh. “Tell her,” he said sternly. “You feel my excitement, girl?”
Makenna couldn’t hold back a gag.
Roberta cried out and shouted, “Please, let her be. I will cooperate. Just let her go.” To her she said, “Makenna, don’t do this. All will be well.” Roberta’s eyes foretold a different ending to this horrible event, but she wasn’t about to let her sister be used in such a way.
“There you see? Your sister has more sense than you.”
“I won’t allow you to hurt her.” She tried to pull free, but the man held too tightly. How she wished she’d grabbed a means of protection when she’d passed through the garrison. There was nothing within reach to use against the rogue. Makenna couldn’t hold back her tears when Roberta’s arms were taken by the two knaves standing beyond.
Sir Hawk held her face and he tugged her earlobe. “She will cooperate, and do you know why? Because if she does not, you won’t live to see another day, my sweet, red wren.” Before she knew what he meant, he sliced her ear. Blood flowed down her neck and upon her shoulder.
Makenna gasped and the throb in her ear intensified and stung. As much as she wanted to cry in horror at the pain overwhelming her face, she remained silent.
Her sister screamed and tried to free herself from the men’s hold. “Please, don’t hurt her. I will cooperate.”
Sir Hawk shoved her away from him and she stumbled forward. “Take her away. Keep her below. No one touches her but me.” His eyes darkened when they peered at her. “I have plans you, my little wren. I’ll have more than a quick tumble from you.”
The two men pulled her arms and forced her from the chamber. Makenna wouldn’t make it easy for them and deadened her weight. Her feet drug behind them as they dragged her to the hall. Her loud yells and appeals caused her voice to rasp. She was bid to sit in a chair. Makenna snatched a cloth from the table and held it against her ear to stop the bleeding. She searched the chamber for a weapon, but only saw a small dagger used for supper.
Screams came from above. Her sister cried out. Her wails deafening and Makenna’s heart crushed with each tormented shriek. After long minutes of anguished heart-wrenching, her world stilled. The hall silenced and she no longer heard her sister’s cries.
God have mercy.
A few minutes later, Sir Hawk called from above to one of his men. “Your turn, Alden. I’ll watch,” he said in a snide tone, “She’s a worthy tup, but be quick for we have no time to dally.” The man ran up the stairs, leaving his partner alone.
Makenna reached forward and snatched the supper dagger from the table before the other man returned his attention to her.
“They’ll probably kill her before I get my chance at her. Are ye disappointed
, girl, that the Hawk won’t share ye? Mayhap I’ll give ye a wee bit of pleasure before we take our leave. Would ye like that?” He gyrated his hips in a lewd motion.
She refused to answer. Tears flowed from her eyes, and she realized her sister wouldn’t live through the torture. There was nothing she could do to save Roberta, but she’d avenger her.
Makenna waited until the opportunity rose. She had to be patient. As much as she wanted to fling from her chair and jam the blade in the man’s heart, she took a deep breath. For once in her life she kept her temper in check and silently pled to God for his aid.
The man walked to the window and laughed. “You should come and see this, girl, for half your village is aflame. All should be warm this night, those who still live, that is.”
He stood with his back to her, and she knew she had to make her move. Makenna jumped from her chair and ran at him. She jabbed the supper dagger in his back. Before he could react, she fled to the steps and almost fell down them as fast as she moved. At the bottom, she peered around and saw a pile of swords. She grabbed one and then continued to make her way to the tunnel. Her heart crashed madly against her chest and her breath heavy, bringing a painful stitch to her side. She kept running until she reached the exit.
Makenna’s harsh breath wafted before her from the coldness settling on the land. As she fell to the ground, still clutching the sword, she cried. Wept for all the misery of what happened this day. She couldn’t hold back the onslaught of sobs. Her stomach threatened to expel her morning fare and she held back the will to retch.
All that she held dear was lost. Her mother … sister … Ealish … home. She wished with all her might that her uncle and cousins hadn’t left the keep, for they would’ve been protected and the English would never have entered the walls.
Night would soon come and she needed to flee this place. She squeezed the sword handle, feeling the weight of it, and ran her fingers with her other hand over the hard, cold iron. Makenna never held a weapon before. Her father forbade them its uses because he wanted to raise his daughters as gently bred ladies. She wished with all her heart that he had allowed them to train, at the very least, given them enough skill for protection.
The plight she’d been through caused to her to tremble and she realized she had no means to keep herself warm for her cloak was still in her mother’s solar. She rubbed her arms and looked up at the darkening sky, knowing she would freeze to death if she didn’t find a means to keep herself warm.
Snow drifted down, mixing with the smoke of the burning buildings, and grayed the landscape further. Smoke wafted through the tunnel and burned her eyes. She sniffled back her tears back and the odor of burnt wood. The keep would be in a heap of rubble, her home no more.
Makenna lifted the weighty sword and marveled at the object. If it was the last thing she ever did, she would learn to wield the weapon. Sir Hawk would die, she vowed, by her hand and hers alone. It was a promise she made to God, and nothing would prevent her from seeing it through.
Chapter Three
Liam wasn’t much of an animal lover. He hadn’t spent much time with animals except for his warhorse. Why the feline chose him to attach himself to, was beyond him. This morning, he’d awakened to the beast walking on his hard chest. Liam pushed him off, but the cat kept jumping back upon his bedding until finally he gave up and rose. He wasn’t usually an early riser, especially when he could stay abed. But with his unwanted guest, Liam decided to venture outside and gather more firewood.
A gush of wind prickled the hair on his legs as it found its way under his tartan. He looked upward, between the trees and viewed the grayed clouds. Moisture inundated his senses and he surmised it would soon snow. The crisp air carried by the wind would make for a day spent by the fire.
The cat followed his every step and screeched when he accidentally stepped on its paw. “Be gone, cat. Move aside or I’ll step on you again.” When he realized he was talking to the animal, he scoffed. The cat didn’t take heed of his warning and he’d stepped on the creature twice more before Liam retreated back inside the cave.
Annag hummed as she was wont while attending to the cooking pot. The scent of the sweet pottage caused his stomach to rumble. His comrades took their usual spots at the large table in the center of the massive chamber. He took his time eating and assessed the mood of his friends. Graeme appeared tired, for he’d heard the bairn’s wails during the night. He must not have gotten much sleep. Brodin and Heath were their usual silent selves.
“We’ll need to head out to find the monk. It’s been a week since the friar asked us to search for the parchment.”
Graeme pushed his bowl aside and frowned. “I am hesitant to leave Kerrigan and the wee one. ‘Tis too soon. I will have to leave them when the king returns as it is.”
Brodin grumbled when he’d taken the last bite of his pottage. “Regardless, Hemm’s reputation is at stake. The matter is important to him, and we are duty-bound. We should begin our search immediately.”
“I agree with Brodin. But Graeme should stay with his wife and son. Only two of us need go,” Heath said.
Liam hoped they had more time before the Bruce returned from his winter sojourn. There were matters to attend before they’d take up the vigil of protecting their king. One of which was gaining his cousin’s accord in returning his father’s lands.
Graeme wasn’t usually one to refute his duty, but since his bairn was born, Liam understood his wish to stay at the caves. His comrades considered Heath’s suggestion in silence, and Liam’s gaze went to the cat that now stretched out near the hearth. It licked its paw until a noise drew the cat’s attention. The beast’s back hunched, its hair stood on end, and its tail fluffed out.
Liam rose and slunk to his pallet and picked up his sword.
“What are you about?” Graeme asked.
He pointed to the cat that now growled and hissed.
“Someone is outside,” he said in a low voice.
“Maybe it’s another animal,” Heath said.
“Maybe it’s not,” Brodin said and unsheathed his sword.
Liam moved first toward the entrance of the caves hidden by vines and pulled them aside. He peered out and spotted a lad skulking toward the cave. He fisted his hand, giving the signal to his comrades that all was well.
Outside, he and his comrades surrounded the lad. Liam recognized him as one of Sweetheart Abbey’s stable lads. “What are you about, lad?”
“Friar Hemm sent me with messages,” he said, keeping his gaze on the ground near them.
Liam held out his hand and bade him to give the missives. He handed the one addressed to Graeme to him, and broke the seal on his. He perused the words quickly; relieved to read that Micheol agreed to meet him at Caerlaverock village, and that he would arrive within a week. The timing couldn’t be more impeccable as a week had just passed since he’d sent it.
“I need to go to the village,” he announced, and turned to retreat back into the cave.
“Await,” Graeme said, and folded his missive and grew pensive. He walked around the clearing, seemingly deliberating the message he held. “Lad, return to the friar and tell him someone will come this day.”
The lad hastened off as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.
“What does Hemm want?” Heath asked.
“Does he ask of our progress in finding the parchment?” Brodin added.
“Nay, he doesn’t. He says he needs our aid with what he calls a ‘delicate matter’ but with Liam leaving for the village and you two going to seek the monk, I suppose I will have to go see what Hemm wants.”
“I will see to it since I’m going in that direction.” Liam didn’t await Graeme’s acceptance of his offer. He entered the cave and went to his belongings and retrieved two daggers and stuck them in his boots. The ride to the village would be cold and snow would probably come, so he dragged his cloak over his shoulders.
Graeme followed him inside. “Are you certain, Liam? I feel
badly asking you to attend to Hemm when I know you’re troubled by your cousin’s visit.”
He hastened to the table and opened the box that contained their coins and took out a few. “I’ll see Micheol first and then will find out what the friar wants. You two,” he said to Brodin and Heath as they entered the cave, “Be safe and if you need us …”
“We know the code words and will get in touch with Hemm if we’re in trouble. And of course, we have our medallions too, which we will send should we need to.” Brodin tugged on the medallion he’d made. He’d carved them each one so that if they needed help, they’d only have to send it to the abbey. Each medallion embellished with the Bruce’s crest and their names etched on the back side.
Heath fiddled with the strings of his boot, the many that he’d tied there which he’d made a tassel of. The habit drove Liam daft and he scowled at him to get him to stop, but his comrade rose and said, “We’ll try to catch the monk’s trail and will return as soon as we can.”
Liam nodded and set off. He was anxious to leave now and hurried to saddle his horse. In the second cave where they kept their horses, he readied and headed out. Being in the ossuary reminded him of Gilroy, the young lad/squire the Bruce had taken on when he’d found him being abused by the lad’s mistress. Liam wondered what’d happened to him for he wasn’t one to run off.
Gilroy was pleased to be part of their group given he was exiled along with them when they fled with Robert after the unfortunate incident at Greyfriars Abbey. It wasn’t the first time a squire had run off and it wouldn’t be the last. He intended to search the village again for the whereabouts of Gilroy, sure that he would learn something of him, but he hadn’t had time recently to do so.
Along the trail to the village, he considered what his cousin would say. Micheol didn’t hold much fondness for him. Likewise, he didn’t return any favor for the man was coxcomb. As a child his cousin often made a nuisance of himself and harassed him every chance he got. Mayhap his cousin matured. Either way, Liam was uncertain who he’d be dealing with–the tantrum-tromping lad or the effectual earl.
Unbreakable Heart (Legend of the King's Guard Book 2) Page 4