* * *
Blacksword swung his weapon in a high arch, and then brought it crashing forcefully on his opponent’s blade. Fergus staggered back, his hands stinging from the blow. He countered with his own attack, leaving himself open for a thrust to his heart. Connall stopped short from finishing the job. They lowered their weapons then he instructed his squire on how to avoid being in that position.
“Fergus, every time ye raise your sword above your head ye leave yourself wide open to a death blow. Twould be better if ye spin around and let your momentum throw your opponent off-balance.” He glanced up hearing Amy’s giggles.
Giving her a stern look, he stalked towards his ward. “Tis too dangerous here for lasses. What ye be doing?”
“I be watching my betrothed, Da,” she retorted petulantly. “Where else would I be?”
A smile twitched his lips. “And who be your target this day?”
“Why, Fergus, of course. Did he nae tell ye? I told him just this morn!”
Connall glanced at Fergus, who stood with a sheepish expression on his face as he blushed red. Ahh! At least she is setting her sights on somewhat younger men. He grinned at him. Frowning, he turned back to his ward.
“Regardless, Poppit, the training yard is too dangerous for lasses. It is forbidden.”
She ground her toe in the snow soaked earth. “I am sorry. Are ye angry with me?”
Angry? How could he possibly be angry with such an adorable bairn? He shook his head.
“Nay, Poppit. I am nae angry…but do nae do it again or I shall be. Since ye are here I wish to give ye a gift.”
Her eyes widened as her excitement began to mount. “Really, Da? What is it…where is it?” Amy glanced about eagerly.
“Come. I will take ye to it.” Connall swept her up in his arms as he headed for the stables.
“What is it? What is it?”
“Patience, lass. Ye shall see soon enough.” The laird covered her eyes with his free hand as they entered the dark building. The air was filled with the smells of oiled leather, hay and horse. Amy wriggled impatiently in his arms as he strode to the rear, finally stopping and removing his hand.
Amy rubbed her eyes as they adjusted to the dim light then spied a litter of puppies being watched over by their mother. “Puppies!” she squealed as she clapped her hands together. “They are mine?”
Connall laughed. “Ye can have one puppy, Poppit. Ye must decide which one ye would have. When they grow up they will look like their mama and have long coats to brush. So choose wisely which of them ye would have. Ye will need to feed it and keep the tangles from its fur. Do ye think ye can handle such a responsibility?”
Amy nodded vigorously as she squirmed out of his arms to inspect the pups. Eight little fur balls attacked her enthusiastically, knocking her down in the straw. She laughed and giggled as they alternately took turns licking her face and hands.
The laird smiled at their antics as she carefully inspected each one. The litter belonged to his stable master, Arthur. He had been trading breeding with a man from a neighboring village to create a herding dog that was easily trained. This was his best litter to date. Collies is what he called them. Connall had to admit that they were beautiful to look at…he hoped they could herd sheep as well.
“This one wants me, Da! I will keep this one. Thank ye, Da. I promise to take good care of it.” Amy held up a sable pup with a wide white collar and a thin blaze down its face. It licked her face lavishly.
Noting its sex, he asked, “And what will ye name her, lass?”
“I will call her ‘Fergus’,” she spoke in awe. “She reminds me of him.”
Connall chuckled as he imagined his squire’s reaction to this bit of news. “Are ye certain ye do nae wish to give her a lass’ name?”
She shook her head adamantly! “Nay, Da. Her name is Fergus.” With that said, she marched proudly from the stables with her prize in her arms.
The Earl followed close behind, arriving in the bailey in time to hear his squire being ribbed about looking like the bitch pup. Fergus gave him a pleading look to no avail. He shrugged in response. Perhaps his ward will change the pup’s name as often as she switched suitors…twas Fergus’ only hope.
* * *
Stephen had been trapped at this inn for a sennight shy of a month. He had suffered for a fortnight with fever and a cough. This last sennight he spent regaining his strength as the snows melted away to little more than a memory.
Feeling more like his old self he called for his captain. “McGee! Ready the men. I will nae delay one day more to retrieve my intended!”
His captain shook his head piteously as he left to gather the men. It was a fool’s errand. He knew this but you do not argue with your laird.
They left before the sun rose on the horizon. Ross and his warriors made good time as they traveled westward toward Halkirk…in spite of the mire left behind from the snowmelt. On the sixth day, they were in sight of the castle as they stayed just within the tree line.
A wicked smile crossed his lips as he contemplated his next move. How was he to reach her? He could say he was there for a visit…or just passing through, but he would never get her past the gates. No, that would not do.
“McGee! Send a man in peasant clothes within the walls to scout out a postern gate. We will set up camp a few leagues north of Halkirk and await his report.”
“Aye, my laird.” He glanced behind them at the men. There was one among them who could easily pass for an old beggar. “Liam, swap the packs from that palfrey to your mount, and then ride it to yonder castle. Scout out the walls for a postern gate or some other means of entry…and leave your sword with us. Meet us north of here in two days’ time.”
The grey-haired man nodded as he proceeded to follow his orders. Before long, Liam rode slowly toward the gates of Halkirk. Stephen did not wait to see if he gained entrance as they followed the trees, searching for a suitable campsite.
* * *
Chapter IX
* * *
Brighde was restless. The day had turned out to be unseasonably warm compared to the last fortnight of bitter cold. She sighed heavily. She dearly wished to go for a stroll outside the gates…just for the solitude that she could not acquire within. There was always someone about.
Amy was napping and Connall was busy practicing with his men. She chewed her lip as she considered going alone. After all…was not that the whole purpose…to be alone? Making her decision, she rose and went to gather her cloak. Donning it, she stopped short, realizing she would never get past the gates unaccompanied. A smile lit her face as she remembered the postern gate. No one would be watching it!
Before long, Brighde was slipping out of the small gate and strolling across the open space that separated Halkirk from the forest. A light warm breeze ruffled her sable hair as she soaked in the sun, fantasizing about Connall’s bairn.
So absorbed in her thoughts, she was a bit startled to find a tree before her. Glancing behind her, she knew that she had gone too far from the safety of the castle. Brighde turned about to retrace her steps when she felt a large hand cover her mouth as a strong arm wrapped about her waist. Struggling to free herself from this unknown assailant, she heard a gruff voice in her ear.
“Well…fancy finding ye here, my lady. My laird will be pleased when he sees me return with ye instead of just information. In fact, he will no longer need it since ye are what he desired.”
Terror shot down her spine as she attempted to scream. Her mind raced to think of who might wish her harm. His hand squeezed her tender breast causing tears to spring to her eyes. She cried out against his grimy hand.
“Ahh, lass. I just want a taste of ye. Nae one will ken the wiser.” He spun her around as he dragged her deeper into the woods. His foul mouth ground against her lips causing her to gag with revulsion. Her knee came up hard against his groin. But instead of releasing her, he drew back his fist in a dark rage, striking her chin full force. Blackness swathed her in
stantly as she crumpled to the ground.
Liam swore an oath as he rubbed his throbbing bullocks. Damned wench! Now I have ta explain the bruise on her face. He carried her back to his palfrey after binding her wrists, tossing her limp form across its back. Mounting…he rode to the north to meet up with his laird.
* * *
Blacksword smiled as he walked back to the castle. Fergus’ training was coming along nicely. He was making fewer errors every day. Mayhap he should start looking for a new squire soon. His smile soon turned into a frown as he neared the front steps. What was Poppit doing out at such a late time of day? The air is growing chilled and she wears nae cloak! Tis nae like Brighde to neglect her so.
Amy raised tear-filled eyes to him as he approached. Jumping up, she ran into his arms, sobbing. “Whoa Poppit! What has ye so distressed?”
“Da! I woke from my nap and could nae find Mama! I have looked everywhere! And I could nae tell ye cause ye said to stay away from the field where ye train! I thought ye would never get here.” She wailed in her misery.
A sense of dread settled in his stomach. “Are ye sure ye just did nae miss each other in the corridors, sweeting? It can happen, ye ken.”
“Nay, Da. She always brings me a mug of milk when I wake….aallwwaayysss!” she stressed. “And I asked every gillie I saw. She is gone!” Amy sobbed in earnest as she gave him the dire news.
Connall’s heart began to pound in his chest as fear that she may be right threatened to overwhelm him. He hurried inside with Amy in his arms, barking orders to search everywhere for the Countess.
Looking down at the bairn in his arms, he knew that as much as he wished to join in the search, she needed his reassuring presence at the moment. They went to the great hall where he fed her while awaiting word from his men. He did not have to wait long.
One of the maids informed him that Brighde’s cloak was missing and a short time later, Robbie told him that the postern gate was not barred. It did not take a genius to add up the facts. She had left the safety of the castle…disobeyed him!
His green eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and fear. “Amy, when did ye last see Mama?”
Her face scrunched up as she concentrated. “Right after the nooning. She tucked me in for my nap, Da…like she does every day.”
“Did she say anything about taking a walk?” Amy shook her head. He glanced at Robbie. “Send Fergus to me and ready the mounts. Have our best tracker check beyond the gate for any signs. We ride within the hour!” His captain gave a brusque nod and rushed out.
Connall glanced at his ward. “Poppit, I need ye to be very brave now. Ye must go with maid Mary and let her tend to ye while I go get your mama. Can ye do this for me?”
“Ye will bring her home?” she asked meekly.
“Aye, lass. On my honor…I will return her to ye…to both of us. This I swear!” He placed his hand over his heart in oath.
Amy threw her wee arms about his neck in a fierce hug. “Then I will be brave, Da!” He hugged her in return as he forced the lump of fear down his throat, then kissed her head. More than anything…he wanted to keep this vow. The thought of losing his wife…of his empty bed…drove him to distraction. He could not…would not, accept it!
“Run along now, sweeting, so I may go and retrieve your mama.” She kissed his black whiskers noisily and took the maid’s hand as they left for her chambers. “Do nae leave her alone, Mary.”
“Aye, my lord. I will nae leave her.”
* * *
It was a dark moonless night. The tracker had followed her path to the forest, where he informed Connall that there had been a struggle. “There are deep hoof prints, my lord. Both must be astride the animal. The trail leads north.”
His gaze hardened as his worst fears were realized. She had been abducted! His heart clenched as he struggled for control of his emotions.
“North it is then. Release the dog on the scent.” They had brought Arthur’s bitch which could track silently ahead, returning to alert them to the trail sporadically. And right now they needed speed and stealth.
All were silent for the next few hours as they crept through the dark forest. They had performed this act many times while serving the king and were well trained.
Connall held up his hand to halt as he neared the collie standing silently ahead of him, staring intently through the brush. His ears perked up as he detected several men snoring just beyond in the clearing. They slid silently from their horses as one. Peering through the brush, they spied ten men sleeping around a fire and a small tent near the center of them.
Connall bristled as he recognized McGee warming his hands over the flame. Ross! Nay…it can nae be! Fear that Brighde had been raped seared his brain. He trembled with rage! Robbie’s hand stayed him from charging in amongst them as he directed Blacksword’s attention to a man leaving the camp to relieve himself. Using hand signals, he directed one of the men to capture him. He disappeared into the darkness.
A safe distance from the camp, the warrior was questioned by Connall’s man, then he slit his throat. None would live after abducting the Countess. It was understood by all!
The Earl had never known such fear before. He had to mentally force the horrid thoughts from his head as his man returned. He barely breathed the question.
“Did he touch her?” That is all he wished to know. Nothing more…nothing less.
The warrior smiled, shaking his head. “He will nae be touching any lass for many days, my lord,” he whispered. “It seems that my lady has a very wicked knee. She maimed two of them afore he bound her.” Connall grinned widely with relief as his mind eased. He took a deep breath as he shook off his anxiety. It was time to plan how he would reach her, knowing that Ross must be in the tent, as well. His men circled the camp awaiting the right moment for their assault. First, Ross had to leave the shelter. Connall positioned himself as close to the rear of the tent as he dared, settling in for the long cold night ahead.
Stephen sat across from her staring at the bruising from the beating he had given her earlier. Her cut lip had stopped bleeding a short while ago. He grunted in pain as he adjusted his position. She had deserved the thrashing. Brighde is mine! She has no right to deny me…her intended! How dare she strike out at me! Things will be different once we wed. My bride will nae turn me away again.
Ross stood and nudged her with his foot. She whimpered as pain shot through her frail form.
“Good! At least ye are nae dead…yet.” He checked her bindings before he strode out of the tent to relieve himself.
Connall’s ears perked up at his wife’s moans of pain. His eyes hardened with hate as a stabbing pain struck his heart. With a clenched jaw, the Earl fell back on his warrior’s training to calm his need to charge into the enclosure. The signal came a few moments later that Ross had left the shelter.
Crawling quickly to the backside, he slit the canvas with his dirk and slunk inside. His keen eyes searched the dark recesses until he located his objective. In one swift movement he cut her bindings, then Connall lifted her limp form gently in his arms. He slipped away into the darkness cradling her close to his chest. Brighde moaned as he reached the horses.
“Shhh, my love. Ye are safe now.” He kissed her brow tenderly as he thanked God for her life. The sun’s morning rays had just begun streaking the sky with color. Blacksword inhaled sharply as they revealed massive bruising to her face. A primal roar escaped his lips.
He gave Fergus charge over his wife after quickly swaddling her in a plaid. Withdrawing his sword and short sword, he stalked toward the alerted camp.
Ross’ men woke up befuddled for a moment at the roar emanating from the forest. As they scattered to arm themselves, they heard, “No quarter!” The men were instantly set upon by thirty Canmore warriors slashing and thrusting their weapons. It took only a few short minutes to slay his men.
Spattered with blood and gore, Connall surveyed the scene. Where was Stephen? His body was not among the warriors scattere
d about on the ground. His ears picked up the sound of steel clashing. His heart in his throat, he ran toward the horses where he had left his wife.
Blacksword crashed into the small clearing with blood in his eye. Fergus lay wounded on the ground with Ross standing to the side shielding himself with Brighde. He shook with rage as he spied the dirk being held to her throat.
“Ye are a dead man, Ross. Release my bride.” He growled in a quiet voice.
He shook his head…eyes maniacal. “Nay, Blacksword! I paid good coin for her and I will have her. Angus sold her to me after he sold her to ye. All I need do is remove ye as her husband.”
Connall saw Brighde stiffen at his words and swore an oath. He had hoped to keep that from her.
“What is this, wench? Ye did nae ken that the Earl of Canmore paid four hundred gold pieces to deflower ye?” He snickered in her ear. “Tell me, my lord. Was she worth it?”
His heart softened as he gazed at his wife. “Aye, Ross. She is worth all the gold in my coffers and all of my lands. Brighde is without price. I do nae regret my actions that eve. Release her!” He took a threatening step forward.
Ross was getting nervous as he glanced behind him quickly. He knew that he had not recovered enough from his illness to fight Canmore. He had a choice between his life or Brighde…he chose life as he practically threw her at Connall and leapt on the closest mount, racing away.
The Earl caught her as she fell forward. His clansmen ran to their horses to give chase.
“Hold!” he bellowed. “Ross is mine! Tend to Fergus, then return him and my lady to Halkirk.”
Robbie eyed his laird. “Ye should nae travel alone, my lord. Take some men with ye.”
He just shook his head as he led Brighde away to speak with her. Once they were alone he turned toward her and attempted to straighten her hair. She jerked back from his touch.
“Forgive me, love. Did I hurt ye?”
Her throat tightened as she gazed into the face she had grown to love. It pained her heart to realize that he had purchased her…like a prized steed. Tears sprung to her swollen eyes.
Tarnished Honor Page 6