“Come inside then. We can talk while ye have some food and drink.”
It did not trouble Harcourt when he caught no sight of Annys as he and the others entered the hall. All that had occurred in the last few days, from discovering Biddy’s betrayal to her own close escape, had exhausted her. It would not surprise him if she had slipped away for a brief nap before the evening meal was all set out. He knew he should feel guilty over the fact that his greed for her lush body had undoubtedly added to that weariness he had seen in her of late, but he found that he did not.
“So, what have ye discovered?” he asked the MacFingals after they all sat at the table and the two men began to fill their plates with food. “Ye were gone a long while, long enough that I was thinking on which of my kin I would be willing to sacrifice by sending them to Scarglas with the news that I had lost you.”
Ned laughed and shook his head. “Those fool men of Sir Adam’s ne’er suspected us. Thought we were naught but two more men who thought to earn a few coins for swinging a sword around. Only one I was worried about was Sir Adam himself for I wasnae certain if he had remembered us here with ye that time he came or e’en when someone was watching Glencullaich.”
“But he hadnae.”
“He may have,” said Nathan as he refilled his tankard with ale, having downed the first drink with unhesitant greed, “but he is one of those men who doesnae notice the soldiers or servants, only those of a higher birth. He didnae e’en like coming round to speak with us, always using that fellow Clyde to do his talking for him.”
“Clyde is a verra busy mon.”
“Ah, aye, we heard about that poor lass,” Ned said. “She had to pay for all she had done and planned to do but it was a verra hard death. I suspicion ye didnae tell the women everything, aye?”
After a quick glance to make sure they were alone, Harcourt shook his head. “’Tis why the body wasnae brought home for a while. Cleaned her up a bit although ye cannae hide everything, can ye. Callum sent word that I needed to come and help find a trail for the ones who hanged her. So I am hoping all that will nay be known. For the sake of her sisters if naught else. Joan has made no mention of it and she helped them prepare the lass for burial so that may be the end of it.”
“It will be hard for those lassies for a while but I think the people here are nay the sort to hold the sins of one kinsmon against a whole family.”
“Nay,” agreed Nathan. “Good, kind folk here.”
“The lassies are still working out their punishment for setting their sister free,” said Harcourt. “Couldnae just let that go e’en though they didnae hide their crime. Oh, and now that ye are back, ye will probably start wooing the lassies again.” He ignored their grins. “Word of warning. Biddy’s sister Davida is young and verra bonnie and no fool. She e’en saw the wrong in her sister and there isnae any mercy in her heart for the woman.”
“Yet she set her free.”
“Family.” Harcourt was not surprised when both MacFingals nodded.
“Weel, the most important thing we discovered is that Sir Adam is verra busy gathering an army and ’tis a sizeable one.”
Harcourt cursed. “I suspected that. He has failed to kill either Annys or Benet, failed to drive her away with everything from stealing stock to setting the village on fire. Only thing left is to just take the place. He wasnae e’en planning to do that fair. He was using Biddy to find him all the secret ways in so he could send men inside and slaughter as many as possible that way.”
“And Biddy failing in that, getting herself caught and questioned, enraged Clyde,” said Ned. “When the word first came that the fool lass had actually run back to the keep, and then that ye had kenned about her meeting with Clyde, he killed two fools before he grew cold again. And, nay, I am nay sure how he kenned it. Thinking he has one or two lads just sitting round in ale houses gathering news. Only thing I am sure of is that no one here, aside from Biddy, has e’er helped him. The lack of another spy was what so enraged Clyde and he was verra clear about that when he was ranting.”
“It is the kind of news that would travel far and fast. But, she was nay clever enough to have kept it all to herself when she went to him anyway. So, do ye think this army a worthy one?”
“Some of it. He has a small number of men sent from half a dozen kin and money to hire more swordsmen. The quest to take Glencullaich from a four-year-old boy has stirred up a lot of MacQueens. I suspicion they are hoping for a wee piece.”
“It sounds as if Sir Adam will have to fight hard for a long time to get his arse in that laird’s chair. And, if he works some miracle and wins the battle, that knowledge will give me some comfort.”
“Och, we willnae lose,” said Ned. “Got more skills, more wits, and more strength. And big, thick walls. Dinnae forget the big thick, walls.”
Harcourt laughed. “Nay, let us ne’er forget those walls. Especially since we are mostly confident we have sealed all the bolt-holes. The two we might have to use have been heavily secured but are still able to be used. I am nay one to think it noble to die to the last mon, woman, and bairn. Ye can see when that time comes that a loss is racing toward ye. That is when ye start to get the women and bairns out, while ye can still have men ye can set on the walls to protect their retreat.”
“Agreed,” said Nathan. “A large number of Sir Adam’s forces are just hired swords, and the number of those whom I would call skilled is but a small part of it all. There is only one group he hired that ye need to be verra wary of.”
“His archers,” Harcourt said. “We saw a showing of their skills when they fired the village. Are they still with him?”
“Aye and there are about twenty of them.” Nathan nodded when the others cursed. “They will be busy replacing their arrow, however, and it appears there is a scarcity of fletchers in the area.”
“Had a great need to be south of here for a wee while,” added Ned.
“We dinnae need an army,” said Callum with a laugh. “Just a few MacFingals. Let us hope Sir Adam demands to begin his fight ere his archers can replace those lost fletchers. Now, I have a confession to make.” He grinned when everyone looked at him. “’Tis nay that exciting.
“I am still looking for ways to go in and out of Glencullaich unseen. I was doing it all by myself, inspecting every inch of the wall, every space between buildings, and walls, every floor, wall, and roof. But then I was telling Peg about how Roban keeps appearing in places where we cannae see how it could get in and the lovely Peg said, when she could stop laughing, ‘Why dinnae ye just follow the cat for a while?’” He looked at the stunned expressions on his friends’ faces and nodded. “So, ere I bared my moment of humiliation to the world, I tried it. Yesterday. And I found three places.”
“Three? When did this place become riddled with holes?” demanded Harcourt and he dragged his fingers through his hair. “I looked this place over from top to bottom when we first arrived and do so regularly now.”
“Only one of the three is big enough to have been used for a person to crawl through and might be able to be quickly widened to let in some men. My guess? The dogs and cats roaming around here dig the holes, especially the dogs as ’tis what they do, and Biddy occasionally widened and lengthened one for her own use or because it was one of the things Clyde was telling her to do. Then the other two lassies creeping in and out as they please started to do the same. So what ye get is a mess and one that doesnae go away because the ones doing it keep making new ones.”
“Wheesht, what are ye lads doing round here that is making those lassies dig their way out?” said Ned, laughing heartily as he put his arms over his head to protect himself from the empty tankards hurled at his head.
“Am I interrupting something?” asked Annys as she stepped into the great hall, fighting against the urge to laugh along with the men so thoroughly enjoying themselves.
“Nay, ’tis just Ned being a lackwit,” said Harcourt as he held out his hand in a silent invitation for her to join th
em.
“Actually, I found it quite witty,” said Nathan and he grinned.
“Did ye want something?” asked Harcourt when she sat down next to him.
“Sir Adam’s father has finally sent a letter with his long pondering decision in it,” she replied and placed the letter on the table in front of her.
“What has he said?”
“That I am a liar and a whore, my son is a bastard and no true get of David’s, and that Glencullaich belongs in MacQueen hands.”
Annys could feel the heat of their collective anger despite how some of them had actually gone into what many would call a cold rage. Harcourt was most certainly in the grip of one. She could see it in his eyes. The other was Callum, which surprised her a little. He was usually the most pleasant and calm of the men.
“He is a dead mon,” Harcourt said.
“Weel, that would be a verra nice gift to give me, but I fear I must refuse,” Annys said. “Ye cannae go about killing a laird simply because he is an uncouth, foul-mouthed piece of midden heap slime.”
Those odd words slipped through Harcourt’s mind and reined in his temper enough for him to think more clearly and he looked at Annys. “Midden heap slime?” She shrugged while the others chuckled. “This goes far beyond insult, Annys. Half of what he wrote are words no weel-bred mon would e’er say before a lady. Ye cannae say this didnae upset you.”
“I can but t’would be a lie. T’was like a knife to the heart. Then I got angry. And because I was so verra angry, I started stomping about and threatening to go to his keep and drop Roban on his head.” She nodded when the men winced. “I should probably nay send him this reply.” She removed a rolled up letter from where she had tucked it into her sleeve. “One should ne’er write letters while angry.”
Harcourt snatched the letter from her hand, unrolled it, and read, “Sir William MacQueen, self-proclaimed laird of Duncraoch: I thank ye for your prompt response to your promise to respond in your first response to my grave concerns about your son. Ye may have considered waiting until your attack of bile had receded, however. I am a very truthful widow, which ye would have discovered had ye ever visited us here at Glencullaich and ever actually spoken to me since David died. My son, David’s son, has been accepted by both Crown and Church as his heir. And, nay, ye will not have Glencullaich. Ever. I would also like to remind you that I am not David. My husband was a kind man, always prepared to help when ye arrived with your wagons and your hands out. The laird of Glencullaich filled your larders, your purses, and your stables many times. The laird is now a boy of not yet five years of age and will do as his mother bids him. As said, I am not my husband, sir. Ye and all your kin will no longer feed off the charity of Glencullaich. Your wagons will always be turned away unless your clan’s children are close to dying of starvation in the street. If that dire circumstance comes to pass, I will assist them by sending precisely what they need to precisely where they need it as I am most weary of finding goods my husband gave you when ye cried poor being sold for a profit in a market. As for your son, Sir Adam, whom ye refuse to rein in, he now prepares to attack Glencullaich. He will not ever get Glencullaich, even if I must burn it to the ground, salt the fields, and taint the water. There is still time for you to call him back from his folly but, if ye choose to remain ignorant in this matter, then I have but one more thing to say to you. I hope you have more than one son. Cordially yours, the whore, Lady Annys Helen Stuart Chisholm MacQueen, widow of the late Sir David William MacQueen, a victim of Sir Adam MacQueen’s greed.”
The laughter of the men did lift her spirits and she was pleased it had dimmed some of the terrible anger that had gripped them. “See? Something I most certainly shouldnae actually send to him.”
“Och, aye, my love, ye most certainly should,” said Harcourt and he called for Gavin.
Annys tried to stop him, but he easily held the letter out of her reach. The moment Gavin appeared in the doorway, Harcourt took him the letter. Annys looked across the table and found Callum and Gybbon grinning at her.
“I just needed to spit all that anger out. I ne’er intended to send it to him,” she said.
“Oh, but it must be sent,” said Callum.
“Aye,” agreed Gybbon, the other four men nodding their agreement. “After what he wrote to you, ye deserve to spit it out, all over him.”
“Perhaps, but when dealing with a mon who could e’en write such a letter, I am nay certain it does much good.” She shrugged. “Then, too, what matter if I spit? ’Tis nay as if being polite, mayhap e’en pleading gently for him to come to his senses, will make any difference at all.”
“Nay, I am thinking the moment he kenned what his son was about, heard that ’tis naught but a woman and child ruling here, a keep monned by ones who have ne’er fought a battle, and where there are but six or seven men he and his son might consider of any worth, he lost all reason.”
“Greed stole his wits and his honor.”
Gybbon silently toasted her with a raise of his tankard and then took a drink.
When Harcourt returned and sat down beside her, Annys asked, “Is it safe for Gavin to leave Glencullaich now? Ye told me the area round here fair crawled with Sir Adam’s spies and that none of us should wander verra far.”
“True but Gavin is marked as a messenger,” Harcourt said. “I dinnae think e’en Sir Adam would harm the boy. ’Tis a thing that would blacken his name, his clan’s name, so deeply he might ne’er wash it away. Messengers are usually left alone. The worst Sir Adam might do is read the message if he stopped Gavin on his way. And, as Sir William’s son, could e’en accept it in his stead.”
He would not tell her yet about the added message he had sent. Although he did not like to boast, this time he had made a point of naming himself, every well-set, powerful relative he had, and named his companions in arms. It should have the effect of making Gavin as untouchable as a leper. If nothing else the very size of his family, the number of their allies through marriage or treaty, should make Sir William certain that his threat held the sting of truth. When a man with a clan the size of his, one with so many allies, told you that you would be made to regret any and every bruise on a lad, you made certain that boy stayed safe if you had any sense at all.
“Welcome back you two,” Annys said as she looked at the MacFingals. “I beg your pardon for being so consumed by my own troubles that I didnae say it the moment I arrived.”
“No need to do that,” said Nathan. “We ken that ye were a wee bit distracted.”
She looked at each man, all of whom had gone very quiet, and asked, “So, ye were successful then.”
“Aye. Decided it was time to come back.”
Not only was it very strange for Nathan to be so reticent, she also caught the way he sent Harcourt a faintly panicked look. “What have ye discovered then?”
Nathan sighed. “The mon is assembling an army about half a day’s ride from here.”
“A big army?” she asked, pleased with how calm she sounded when, inside her head was a terrified woman throwing valuables into a sack, grabbing her child, a lamb, and a cat and running for the hills.
“That it is, but ’tis mostly hired swords and I wouldnae consider many of them all that skilled with a sword, either. Ye cannae trust such men to hold fast against a good defense.”
“Is he soon to start gathering them all together and begin advancing on Glencullaich?”
“Aye. The mon himself isnae there yet though. Dinnae think they will do anything until he is.”
“Well then, it appears we probably have a few days to ready ourselves.” She stood up, smiled at them all, and left.
“She took that weel,” said Ned. “Ow!” he muttered and rubbed the back of his head where Callum had just slapped him.
“Nay, Ned,” said Harcourt. “She didnae take it weel at all, but she will settle to the hard truth of it soon.” He finished his ale and stood up. “I believe I will go see if I can help her do that.”
; Despite his concern about Annys, he had to smile at some of the ribald remarks flung his way. They were all good, brave men. He was glad they were with him even as he felt the pinch of guilt for dragging them into this danger. Harcourt knew, however, that not one of them would have refused to come even if he had been able to tell them exactly what they would face. And, if any one of them had had the smallest doubt, the moment Sir Adam had tried to take Annys and then actually taken Benet, that doubt had vanished and the need to stop Sir Adam had hardened into a steely resolve. They would see the man defeated, as thoroughly as possible.
He entered Annys’s bedchamber and hesitated when he found her face down on her bed. Crying women had always troubled him, making him feel a little helpless. A crying Annys tore his heart out. He shut the door and cautiously approached the bed.
“I am nay weeping,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, “so ye dinnae need to approach as if ye fear I will suddenly become some madwoman, wailing and pulling at my hair.”
Harcourt sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her back. “Ye have earned a fit.”
“Nay, I havenae. We kenned this was coming,” she said, turning onto her back to look at him. “It was just a shock to hear that it was truly happening. That he was gathering an army but a half-day’s ride from here and that within days that army could be at these gates. I have ne’er been in, been close to, or even seen a battle. I left home when I was still rather young and in the few years I was at home naught much happened. Then I came here, to a place so peaceful I am surprised any mon here e’en kens how to wield a sword. Now we are at war.”
“’Tis a sin for that bastard to bring that here, to this place,” Harcourt agreed.
“Aye and may he rot in hell for all eternity for it. But, after the shock? After the moment of sinking into the well of it-is-all-my-fault, it passed. Then I just felt so verra, verra sad. I am still sad.”
He yanked off his boots and settled himself next to her on the bed. “I might be able to cheer you.”
Highland Guard Page 18