by Baker, Katy
“We’ll see,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go and check on the east wall.”
Before Aibne could say another word, she hurried away to inspect the work over on the far side of the castle. Here the wall was in better repair but the fact that it stood on marshy ground made Georgie uneasy. It would not be hard to undermine those walls if Beaumont could get hold of decent engineers. Then, no matter how much repair work they did on the north wall, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Skirting the east tower—which Aibne had roped off on her insistence—she made her way through the postern gate to the outside of the fortress. Here a long trench had been dug along the base of the wall for the formwork, with fitted stones lining each side, leaving a hollow between. In the twenty-first century the hollow would have been filled with cement but here all she had to work with was rubble and lime mortar. She only hoped it would work to strengthen the foundations.
“Everything all right?” she asked Murray, the man she’d put in charge.
The bald-headed man straightened and leaned on his shovel. “Aye. It’s going just as ye said it would.” He pointed at the far end of the ditch which they were yet to fill in. “We’ve just got the last bit to fill and we’re done. What do ye want doing with that section?” He nodded to where the eastern tower loomed over the fortress. The outer wall butted right up against it.
“Leave it,” she said. “The wall is too close to the tower to risk repairs and the tower itself would stop attackers getting over the wall there anyway.” She examined the works and then nodded. “Good work. Once it’s been infilled, you can start covering it with earth but remember to shape it into an earthwork—if we do get attacked from this side we want attackers facing a steep rampart to get at the wall.”
Murray nodded. Leaving them to their work, Georgie made her way back to the bailey. She found herself passing the watchtower and paused, craning her neck to look up at the monstrous structure.
There was something about the stonework here that was strange. She’d noticed it the moment she’d arrived here, but she’d not had time to investigate. The style of stonework didn’t fit with the rest of the castle and it reminded her of the out of bounds east wing.
She hesitated. She really should get back to Aibne but the pull of having a peek inside the tower was strong. She peered over to the far side of the bailey. Aibne was busy overseeing the unloading of a cartload of new stone brought from a quarry half a mile away—he wouldn’t notice Georgie’s absence for a few minutes.
She ducked under the rope and approached the tower’s entrance. The door itself had long since rotted away, leaving only the lintel which was so low she had to duck to step through. The interior was dim after the bright sunlight outside and it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she gasped.
The inside of the tower was crumbling.
The floors had completely gone, with just a few joists left to support the walls, making the structure a tall hollow oblong pointing at the sky. The roof was gone too and Georgie could see the blue sky above when she craned her head back to look.
But this wasn’t what sent her heart suddenly thumping in her chest.
Along the wall, the one that abutted the same outer wall where Georgie had set her team building formwork, snaked a crack from one corner to the other, following the line of the mortar the ancient builders had used to fuse it together.
Georgie hurried over and crouched to inspect the damage. The crack was big enough that she could get her hand inside the gaps between the stones. Her blood went cold. She could almost see the tortured pressure on the foundation stones. She could almost feel them shifting under the weight. She could almost hear the tiny, minute grinding sounds that indicated instability.
And she knew that if they didn’t act now, the tower was going to collapse.
She whirled, bolted into the bailey and began shouting. “Aibne! Bring scaffolding! Bring timber! We need to shore up the tower now!”
Aibne looked over, and, perhaps alerted by the urgency in her tone, began barking orders. In only moments a team of builders were pouring into the building, carrying timbers and ropes and a whole host of other paraphernalia in order to reinforce it.
Aibne took one look around inside and assessed the problem in a moment. “Use those timbers to brace the walls!” he yelled. “Get them into position quickly! I dinna understand it,” he muttered, crouching to examine the crack along the wall. “This wasnae here when I inspected this place. What could have happened to cause such damage?”
Georgie’s stomach clenched as realization struck her. The formwork. The digging by the outer wall. Oh no.
“Aibne,” she began. “I think it’s my—”
“Over here!” one of the workers shouted.
With a muttered curse Aibne hurried over, Georgie a step behind. The man pointed at the right angle join where two of the tower’s walls met. The crack had spread, snaking up the joint in a lightning zig-zag to a height far above Georgie’s head.
“Damn it all!” Aibne growled. “Bring more timbers. We’ll must— “
“No,” Georgie interrupted him. “Everyone get out now. We don’t have time. The wall is too unstable.”
“There’s no need to panic,” Aibne said. “I’ve seen this kind of thing before. It just needs reinforcement until we can get the mortar replaced and more supporting joists where the floors used to be. If we can tie the walls in—”
“It won’t work,” Georgie said with certainty. Looking up at the walls, she could feel them moving, even though no movement was visible. She could hear the structure groaning even though no sound was audible. The stone called to her. Spoke to her.
“Get everyone out now!” she yelled.
Aibne hesitated, clearly unsure.
“Please, Aibne,” she said, clasping his arm. “You have to trust me.”
The master mason watched her for a second then bellowed, “Ye heard the lass! Out! The lot of ye!”
To Georgie’s relief everyone sprang to obey, streaming out of the tower and into the bailey outside. When they were all safely clear, Aibne grabbed Georgie’s arm.
“Come on, lass.”
They hurried towards the door just as an almighty groan came from above and a shower of dust cascaded down one wall. As she reached the doorway, Georgie glanced over her shoulder and froze. There was somebody still inside. A figure crouched in the far corner of the building, scanning the ground as if looking for something.
With a start, she realized it was Oswald.
“What are you doing?” she yelled at him. “Get out!”
“I’ve dropped my cross!” the youth shouted back, a hint of panic in his voice. “My Ma gave me that before she died! I have to find it!”
“Ye young fool!” shouted Aibne. “Come here now! That’s an order!”
But Oswald didn’t obey. He continued scanning the ground, his movements jerky and erratic, as though near panic.
With a curse, Georgie darted back into the building and ran over to Oswald. Above, the walls made an ominous groaning sound and another shower of dust came cascading down. The fault had split again, a spider-web of cracks spreading out in all directions.
“Come on!” Georgie said, grabbing Oswald’s arm. “We have to go!”
“There it is!” Oswald cried. He dived forward, grabbed something, and came up triumphantly holding a small wooden cross on a snapped leather thong.
Georgie tugged his arm and together they sprinted towards the doorway. They were perhaps five meters away when the joist above suddenly gave way with an almighty shriek. Georgie had a split second to register the huge beam falling towards them, and to realize that Oswald was directly under it.
She threw herself at the young man, shoved him with all her strength, and sent him staggering through the doorway just as the joist came crashing down between them, blocking the door and leaving Georgie on the wrong side.
A mass of broken timbers blocked the exit. She was trapped.
>
“Georgie!” came Aibne’s voice. “Are ye all right?”
“I’m fine!” she shouted. “Get everyone back. I need to find another way out of here.”
But even as she said the words she heard a rumble above her. She glanced up as the wall began to tilt crazily inwards. She dived into the corner, into a spot where a joist spanned the gap above, and put her hands over her head just as stones and wood came crashing down on top of her.
Chapter 9
The sword glinted in the afternoon sunlight as it whizzed past Blair’s ear. He stepped to the side, knocked it away nonchalantly, and then placed the tip of his own blade against the base of his opponent’s throat.
“Ye are dead,” he said. “Never over extend yerself. Ye will lose yer balance and give yer enemy an opening.”
He was sparring with Donal, one of the younger members of his warband. The lad was eager to learn and showed promise, but was still woefully short of the skill needed to go up against Charles Beaumont’s trained killers. A couple more years in Dun Ringill under Blair’s father’s tutelage and Donal might have become a master swordsman but Blair didn’t have two years. Lord, he didn’t even know if he had two weeks.
Donal nodded, breathing heavily. He attacked again and Blair went through the motions, but his mind wasn’t really on his training.
His thoughts kept flicking to Georgie. For the last few days he’d rarely thought of aught else. The smile she’d given him this morning when he’d approved her plan of drafting men into the repair teams had almost taken his breath away.
Since the banquet a week ago he’d found the tiniest excuse to spend time with her. He’d begun delaying his morning patrol so that he was still in the hall when she came down for breakfast and his stomach always did a strange little flip when she stepped through the door. They chatted over breakfast each morning and he’d soon discovered that she was as quick-witted as she was funny. During the day, on his rounds of the castle or after training with his men, he’d find excuses to ‘bump’ into her: be it checking on the progress of the repair works or keeping her updated on the latest developments at Dun Halas.
What is wrong with me? he thought as Donal jabbed at his ribs and Blair pivoted away, tripped the lad, and sent him sprawling into the dirt. Why am I feeling like this?
He’d known women. Lots of women. But none of them lit a fire in his belly like Georgie did. None of them made his heart ache like it did when he was away from her or sent joy cascading through him like it did when she was by his side.
He held out a hand to pull Donal to his feet.
“Sorry, my lord,” Donal said. “I dinna know if I’m ever going to get the hang of this.”
Blair smiled and clapped the youth on the shoulder. “Of course ye will. It’s just practise. Eventually yer body will remember the moves and ye willnae even have to think about it. Instinct will take over. Let’s try—”
He cut off as an explosion like cannon fire tore the air. What the—? He spun, mouth dropping open in horror as he saw what was happening inside the castle. Almost in slow motion, he watched as the east tower collapsed in on itself, sending up a cloud of dust and debris and making the ground tremble like an earthquake.
For a second Blair stared, stunned. Then he dropped his sword and took off across the training ground, the other warriors who’d been training with him a step behind. He sprinted through the gate and skidded to a halt in the bailey. The dust was so thick he had to put his arm in front of his face and breathe through the sleeve of his shirt. Aibne and his helpers were standing in dazed silence, gazing up at the pile of rubble that had once been the east tower.
“What happened?” Blair demanded, grabbing Aibne by the shoulder. “Lord help us, what happened?”
The whites of the mason’s eyes stood out through the grime and dust that covered his face. “Georgie found a crack in the wall,” he said in a dazed voice. “She said it was going to collapse. She told us to run. She....she...”
The man fell silent and a cold icicle of fear stabbed right through Blair’s guts.
“Where is Georgie?”
Aibne swallowed a few times. Then he raised a shaking finger and pointed at the tower. “In there. She didnae get out.”
The world went dark. For an instant Blair couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel. She didnae get out. Aibne’s words were like a razor slicing straight across Blair’s throat. But in the next instant, he mastered himself, pushed away the despair that threatened to send him to his knees.
“Donal! Sean! Get shovels and picks! Someone find Brody and tell him to bring his medical kit! The rest of ye, with me!”
He ran over to the pile of rubble and began digging it out with his hands. Around him, his men did the same. He did not have to issue orders. They all knew what they had to do. He wrestled broken timbers out of the way, heaved enormous stones from his path, wiped dust from his eyes with the back of his hand. Soon his hands were ripped and bleeding but Blair barely noticed. Desperation burned through his veins. He had to find her. He had to.
Sean and Donal arrived carrying shovels and picks and Blair grabbed one and began swinging with abandon, smashing apart rocks and dragging them out of the way, forging his way deeper into the ruins of the tower.
Much of the rubble was piled against the far wall—the part that had taken the most damage—and the heap looked unstable. Half-rotted joists stuck out of the pile at angles and little slithers of dust and stones slid down the mound at intervals, threatening an avalanche.
Damn him, why hadn’t he had the tower properly secured?
Then he heard it. A faint sound, little more than a whisper. He threw up his hand. “Quiet!”
Everyone went still. The only sound he heard was the erratic thumping of his own heart. “Georgie?” he shouted. “Can ye hear me?”
Nothing.
Then, from over by the corner of the building: “Blair?”
He burst into motion. He scrambled across the tumble of rubble and began hacking at the spot where the voice had come from. His desperation rose to boiling point, and he found himself growling like a beast as he dug madly, tossing stones and timber and rubble out of his way.
The slope groaned and slid a little.
“Blair!” said a voice beside him. Aibne. “Blair, ye will bring down the lot on us!”
He didn’t listen. He kept digging, uncaring of what was happening around him. He had to find Georgie.
Aibne grabbed his arm, wrenched him around to face him. “Listen, man!” the mason growled. “Ye must stop! It’s unstable! Do ye want to kill yerself and yer men into the bargain?”
The words penetrated the miasma of desperation. He blinked, looking around. His warriors were watching him, awaiting his command. They would do as he asked them, despite the teetering pile of rubble hanging over them. But they were his responsibility as much as Georgie was.
“Everyone out!” he roared. “Now!”
“What about ye?” Aibne asked. “Ye canna stay—”
“Dinna argue with me, old man,” Blair growled, his voice soft and as dangerous as steel. “Go. Now.”
Aibne’s gruff face folded into a scowl. Without another word, he turned and left.
As soon as his men were clear of the rubble, Blair set to work. He scrabbled and scraped and dug and heaved, all the while keeping one eye on the pile that was beginning to shift above him. Finally, he flung aside a stone and his hands met empty air. A void.
“Georgie?”
The inside of the void was utterly dark. He could see nothing. Then he thought he spotted faint, feeble movement.
With a horrible grinding noise, the slope of rubble began to slide. Heart thumping, Blair crawled into the void. It was tiny, barely big enough for him to fit through and as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw that it had been formed by two joists that had fallen across each other to form a ceiling keeping off the weight of the stones above.
And in that space, lay Georgie.
H
er eyes were closed and blood ran down her temple but her chest rose and fell as she breathed shallowly. His heart skipped a beat.
“Georgie? It’s me, Blair.”
No response.
Above his head, the joists gave a groan and a small shower of dust rained down. As quickly as he could, Blair gathered her into his arms and began to back out of the hole. She lay limply in his embrace, head lolling, and he had to fight to keep the panic at bay. Just as they cleared the hole, the joists that had created the void snapped with an ear-shattering crack. Rubble came cascading down.
Blair spun on his heel and, clutching Georgie against his chest, sprinted for the bailey. The rumble of collapsing masonry sounded from behind him but he dared not look back.
His legs pumped, propelling him just ahead of a cloud of dust that threatened to envelop them both. He burst into the clearer air of the bailey and came to a halt, spinning around to look at the destruction behind him.
The east tower was utterly gone. All that was left was one piece of jagged wall and the rest was nothing more than a jumble of masonry and broken wood. The outer wall that had joined the tower had collapsed too, leaving a gaping hole and an easy way for his enemies to get into the fortress.
He turned, hurried towards the hall just as Brody joined him, carrying a bag of medical supplies over his shoulder.
“Anyone else injured?” Blair asked as he hurried up the steps.
“No. They all got out in time, thanks to Georgie. Get her upstairs where I can take a look at her.”
Blair nodded. He took the stairs two at a time, kicked open the door to Georgie’s room, and laid her down gently on the bed. She didn’t wake, and she was as limp as a doll as he set her down.
“Move away,” Brody commanded, kneeling by the bed. “Give me some room.”