by Jayne Castel
“I don’t know what ye expect us to do?” Gavina replied wearily. “None of us can work miracles, Liz.”
Elizabeth drew herself up, her gaze narrowing. “I don’t think ye have explored all possibilities. For one thing, ye haven’t consulted anybody who knows about curses and witchcraft.”
Gavina didn’t answer. She merely stared at her sister-by-marriage, taken aback. When she didn’t reply, Elizabeth let out a huff of frustration. “There’s a wise woman, a seer, who lives in Stonehaven.” She set aside her spindle, placing it on top of the basket of wool beside her. “Locals say she practices old magic. Some say she’s even a witch. Ye and Draco should pay her a visit. Maybe, she has the answers ye seek.”
“Ye want them to consult a witch?” Heather asked, her voice incredulous. Both sisters were staring at Elizabeth as if she’d lost her wits.
Elizabeth’s full mouth curved into a smile. “Aye,” she murmured. “After all, a witch made this curse … maybe another can end it.”
“What are those cunning bastards doing?”
Draco leaned over the walls and watched the men below the keep. They were laying down long wooden planks. They’d started at the base of the defile and were slowly making their way up the incline toward the gates. All the while, the defenders pelted them with crossbow bolts, arrows, and chunks of rock. But clad in chainmail and iron helms, protected by men shielding them from the blows with shields, the soldiers worked tirelessly.
“They’re bringing in a weapon,” William Wallace announced.
Draco cut a glance at their leader. The big man stood at his shoulder, a fierce scowl creasing his face. Like all of them, the Wallace was tired and dirty, although his gaze was as determined as ever. He didn’t even appear to notice the weeping cut on his forehead, where an arrow had grazed him that morning. “Not a siege tower?”
“No, he’d never get something that big up the defile … something else I’d say.”
“Look.” A few feet farther down the wall, Cassian pointed to the cliff-top. And as they watched, a bulky outline pushed its way through the ranks of soldiers. From this distance, it looked like a huge covered wagon. But as the object was slowly lowered down the steep slope beneath the cliff-top, Draco’s breathing stilled.
It was an enormous battering ram.
The day was grey, but even so, the weapon’s iron tip glinted. It was at least thrice the size of the one the English had been using previously.
“I don’t believe it,” Cassian hissed a moment later. “Is that Irvine plaid I see?”
Draco frowned. “Where?” His gaze scanned the crowd of soldiers upon the cliff-top, bypassing the English banners: the red and white Saint George’s Cross flag and the gold and red Plantagenet lions. And there he saw them, fluttering pennants of bright green and blue. Irvine plaid was actually quite similar to that of their neighbors, the De Keiths.
An irony really.
“Hades take us all,” Maximus cursed, stepping up at Draco’s shoulder. His own gaze was trained upon the bulky siege weapon, which the soldiers were having trouble keeping in check as they descended the rough slope. “Irvine’s ‘Battle Hammer’ is actually real,” he breathed.
Wallace cast him a dark look. “So, we have two ‘Hammers’ to deal with, do we?” he growled. “It matters not … we’ll defeat them both.”
Draco cast his leader a wary look. Wallace was the bravest man he’d ever met, but he was beginning to think he was also one of the most foolhardy. The arrival of the ‘Battle Hammer’ was ill news indeed. “Irvine has betrayed us,” Draco muttered, his attention shifting back to the battering ram.
He thought then of Gavina. Although he’d been avoiding her, she often crept into his mind. How would she react when she discovered her brother wasn’t just a man who broke peace agreements with his neighbors, but was also a traitor to his own people?
As if reading Draco’s thoughts, Wallace growled a filthy curse and spat on the ground at his feet. “When I get my hands on Irvine, I’ll rip out his guts and strangle him with them.”
Draco believed him—Wallace was quite capable of it.
The arrival of the battering ram had caused a pause in the attack for the moment. However, the reprieve was a double-edged one. For it heralded the arrival of a weapon that would be their downfall.
On the walls, the men defending Dunnottar watched as the soldiers struggled with the cumbersome siege weapon. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, it might have been a comical scene. The bulky wagon and the weapon it contained hadn’t been designed to travel such steep, rough ground. It nearly got away from the men twice on the way down the slope, and by the time the wagon reached the bottom of the cliff, angry voices echoed up the defile.
They were arguing about what to do next.
Meanwhile, the long planks—runners that would allow the wagon to roll up to the gate—slowly inched up the slope. Soon the siege would restart.
Muttering another curse, the Wallace turned then to Draco, fixing him with a penetrating look. “Yer wife needs to see this,” he growled. “Bring her up here.”
XXIV
NOTHING AT ALL
GAVINA STARED DOWN at the battering ram that slowly rumbled up the incline. It was so big and bulky, so heavy, that a huge crowd of men had gathered behind it to push. Their grunts and curses echoed through the humid air.
Breathing fast, Gavina attempted to keep her reaction under control. She could feel the gazes of the surrounding men boring into her, challenging her. Overhead, the overcast day was oppressive, adding to the tension that rippled through her.
Traitorous dung rat … what have ye done?
She already had a low opinion of her brother, but she hadn’t thought he’d be the type to betray Scotland.
“What has Longshanks promised him, I wonder?” Wallace’s voice intruded. Gavina tore her gaze from the siege weapon and met his eye.
“Who knows … with my brother anything is possible.”
“During yer meeting … he didn’t say anything of uniting with the English?”
Gavina raised her chin a little, aware that the nearby guards were all glaring at her.
They think I’m part of this?
“If he had, I’d have told ye, William,” she replied.
“The lady speaks the truth,” Draco’s low voice intruded.
He stood a few feet away now, his handsome face as unreadable as ever. He’d found her in the infirmary earlier, helping to bandage the lacerated or burned limbs of injured warriors.
Gavina cut him a glance, her jaw tightening. The devil take him—the sight of Draco in the doorway to the infirmary had made her breathing hitch and heat ripple through the pit of her belly. Yet he’d appeared utterly unmoved, before he’d spoken, “The Wallace wants a word, Gavina.”
Gavina. He was the only one here, besides Elizabeth, who addressed her so informally. He was her husband after all. Even so, the intimacy of it had caused Gavina’s pulse to accelerate. He’d groaned her name once, on their wedding night. Just for a moment, he’d lost control—and it had thrilled her.
But, a few days later, upon the walls of Dunnottar, all sign of that man was gone. A cold stranger stood in his place.
“Maximus and I were with Lady Gavina when she met with her brother,” Draco added, holding his leader’s eye. “We heard all words that passed between them. He said nothing of allying himself with Longshanks.”
Wallace gave a non-committal grunt and swung his gaze away from his second-in-command. He moved forward then, to the wall’s edge, tracking the ‘Battle Hammer’s’ slow progress up the slope.
“Yer brother will suffer for this,” he said, his voice a low, threatening rumble. “In this life or the next … he will pay.”
A chill slithered down Gavina’s spine. Wallace was intimidating at the best of times—and terrifying when riled. She wasn’t about to cross him, yet she’d caught a glimpse of what it was like to be the man’s enemy.
“If ye wish to be the o
ne to take vengeance upon him, so be it,” she answered honestly. Shaw had ruined things between them when she’d tried to make peace with him—this last insult burned the final bridge between them. “I no longer have a brother.”
Behind them, Cassian cleared his throat. “We need to ready ourselves for the next assault, My Lady … it’s best if you get to safety.”
Gavina turned, her gaze meeting Cassian’s. “Thank ye, captain … I shall.” She shifted her attention to her husband then, discovering that he was watching her under lowered brows. “Draco … can I have a word … alone?”
Gavina led the way into the guard’s mess—the nearest covered space once they’d exited from the wall.
As she’d expected, the hall was empty at this hour. Everyone was on the walls, watching her brother’s siege weapon creep up the defile toward them.
I can’t believe he’d side with the English. Gavina’s belly twisted, as the full impact of her brother’s betrayal hit.
Edward likely would have promised him Dunnottar, once the fortress fell. Longshanks wanted the Wallace. He didn’t care what happened to the castle or the lands on which it stood.
And even though she’d been born an Irvine, fury pulsed through Gavina at the thought of this castle falling to her brother.
“What is it?” Draco asked as she stopped and turned to him. His tone was terse. “I’m needed on the wall.”
“The wall can wait,” Gavina replied, folding her arms across her chest. “But this conversation can’t.”
He stared back at her, his mouth thinning.
Undeterred, Gavina continued. “Elizabeth has come up with an idea … one that might help us—ye.” When he didn’t answer, she pressed on. “There’s a wise woman in Stonehaven … a woman who practices ‘old magic’. Ye and I should pay her a visit.”
“You want us to visit a witch?” Draco’s face screwed up. Her suggestion was clearly distasteful to him.
“Aye. Today.”
His mouth twisted. “And how do you suggest we do that … with Longshanks baying at our gates?”
She held his eye, even if his derision stung. “Ye forget … there’s another way out of Dunnottar. David’s wee boat.”
His brows knitted together. “You’re serious about this?”
“I am.”
“This is pointless, Gavina. Don’t you think we’ve consulted witches over the years?” A shudder rippled through him as he spoke. “None were ever able to help us.”
His attitude rankled, yet Gavina persisted. She wouldn’t let him get to her. “But ye probably never visited this witch,” she pointed out. “Heather and Aila both agree it’s worth a try. What have ye got to lose, Draco?”
They stared at each other for a long moment, time drawing out. And then he shrugged, his face turning to stone. “Nothing at all.” His voice was flat, emotionless.
Gavina stiffened. It was hard to believe that the man before her had made love so passionately, had touched her with such tenderness.
But the tenderness had been a ruse. This was who he really was.
“I’ll have to speak to Maximus and Cassian first,” he said after another pause, turning away from her. “Although they’re so desperate at this point, they’ll try anything.”
The day drew out, the shadows lengthening, when a small party ventured beyond the curtain walls and made their way down the snaking steps to the dungeons.
Maximus, Cassian, and Draco led the way, followed by Heather, Aila, and Gavina. The thunder of battle, the boom of the ‘Battle Hammer’ hitting the gates, shook the damp air. The sun hadn’t shown its face all day—almost as if it didn’t dare. An oppressive atmosphere of doom hung over Dunnottar.
Even out here, on the eastern edge of the cliffs, an ominous air held Gavina in its grip.
Reaching the entrance to the dungeons, where the stairs widened out to a ledge, the party halted.
Maximus peered over the edge, his brow furrowing. “De Keith clearly thought himself an acrobat … that’s quite a climb.”
Gavina’s belly clenched, although next to her, Heather gave a snort. “Aye … but ye don’t have a head for heights, my love.”
Maximus cocked an eyebrow at his wife, yet didn’t contradict her. He took a hasty step back from the edge then, and Gavina realized that Heather wasn’t lying. The strained look on Maximus’s face told it all. The man was so formidable—Gavina had always found the Roman a little intimidating—that this knowledge made her feel better.
She wasn’t fond of heights either.
Draco stepped up beside her then, cutting her a look. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “I can go on my own.”
Gavina frowned, aware that all of her companions were now watching her. She was terrified of climbing down from here, especially as the crash of the surf seemed even louder than the roar of battle at present. Would that little boat even still be intact or tied to its moorings?
“Draco’s right, My Lady,” Aila murmured, casting a worried look toward the edge. The rope ladder hung just below it, although Gavina wouldn’t see it until she hung herself over the side. She broke into a cold sweat at the thought. “Ye don’t need to go.”
Gavina straightened her spine and gathered her failing courage. “I do,” she replied with a shake of her head. “If Draco and I haven’t broken the curse, we must find out why. The wise woman will need to see both of us.”
“Dusk is around an hour away,” Cassian interrupted then. “If you’re going to make your move, it must be now.”
“I’m ready,” Draco grunted, moving toward the edge.
“Once you’ve concluded your business in Stonehaven, don’t try returning in the dark,” Cassian warned. “The surf is rough down there in all weathers … and the rocks are perilous. Wait till dawn … we’ll be waiting for you.”
Gavina swallowed, grateful for his practical advice. She then nodded, for she didn’t trust her voice not to betray her. On shaky legs, she moved closer to the edge, watching as Draco lowered himself over. He paused there while his feet scrabbled for purchase.
And then he disappeared from sight.
Gavina’s heart began to pound so fast she started to feel lightheaded.
Merciful Lord, am I capable of this?
“Your turn, My Lady.” Cassian was at her side then, guiding her by the elbow. “Take hold of my hands, and I’ll lower you over. Draco will be waiting on the ladder below.”
XXV
TO THE ROCKS
THE CLIMB DOWN to the rocks was terrifying. Gavina resolutely didn’t look down, concentrating instead on the rope ladder she clung to and the rock wall of the cliff-face.
If she let her gaze drop to the foaming water and the jagged rocks below, her heart would surely fail her.
As Cassian had promised, Draco was waiting for her below the ledge. Clinging to the rope with one hand, he’d taken hold of her right leg with the other, guiding her foot onto the ladder.
“Climb down slowly,” he’d warned her. “The rope’s slippery … and it’s a long way to fall.”
Indeed.
Rung by rung, she made her way down the ladder, the blood roaring in her ears. The boom of the waves against the rocks below grew louder, and the damp spindrift surrounded her, rising up from the crashing surf.
They were almost there.
“Can ye see the boat?” she finally called, still not daring to look down.
“Yes … and it appears intact.”
Relief flooded through Gavina at this news.
Her feet hit stone then, and her knees almost buckled in relief.
An instant later, Draco was at her side, supporting her. “You did well.” His breath feathered against her ear. “That was quite a climb.”
She glanced up at him, expecting to see mockery in his gaze. However, to her surprise, she saw none.
Taking her hand, he led her over the slippery, seaweed-covered rocks to where the tiny rowboat had been wedged in, just above the tideline.
/> Relief filtered through Gavina when she spied two oars sitting in it. However, although made of sturdy oak, the craft was tiny—big enough to take two, and no more.
“Help me drag it out to the water,” Draco instructed, grabbing hold of the prow.
Gavina hurried over to him, grateful that under her woolen cloak she’d dressed in men’s braies and a lèine belted at the waist. There was no way she’d have attempted the climb down the cliff-face in her usual attire.
She too gripped the prow, her fingers digging into the wood, and together they dragged the craft down to where waves pounded the rocks.
“Getting this boat out beyond the breakwater will be … interesting,” Draco observed. “You’d better get in … and hold on tight.”
His words didn’t reassure Gavina. She too had been wondering how such a small craft would handle the rough waves, yet she did as bid, climbing into the boat and clinging to the sides as if her life now depended upon it.
Draco shoved the boat into the waves and leaped in.
Icy water showered Gavina, soaking through her cloak immediately. She gasped, her grip tightening till her fingers ached.
Draco moved swiftly, gripping the oars and maneuvering the tiny craft through the breakwater.
She didn’t speak, preferring instead to let him concentrate on keeping the rowboat upright.
Another wave of frigid seawater doused them. Gavina swallowed a cry of fear, squeezing her eyes shut. When she’d insisted on them taking this journey, she hadn’t thought the boat trip would be so dangerous.
There was a reason why no laird before David had put a boat down here for escaping in.