Medieval Ever After

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Rona straightened her spine and lifted her chin, even though she already looked down on the two men from her perch on Bella’s back.

  “I am Rona Kennedy Sinclair. I wear my husband’s colors.”

  The two men exchanged a look, and the second man actually rolled his eyes at the first.

  “The Sinclairs don’t live in the Lowlands, lass,” the first man said, still cautious. “I think you may be confused—or lying.”

  Rona’s stomach pinched with apprehension, and she swallowed, trying to determine what she could say to these Highlanders to convince them of the veracity of her words.

  “Unless—” The second man’s eyes narrowed and then widened. “Wasn’t Daniel Sinclair sent by…?”

  “Bloody hell,” the first man breathed. He removed the arrow from his bow and slipped it into the quiver at his back. He considered her closely for another moment, and she suddenly realized what she must look like to these men. Her hair was a fiery bird’s nest atop her head, and her face must still be covered in healing cuts and bruises. They probably thought she was a beggar who’d managed to steal Daniel’s plaid for warmth rather than his wife and the daughter of a Laird.

  She took a deep breath. She had to tell them everything. She only prayed that these were the men she was looking for and that she could trust them.

  “I am the daughter of Laird Gilbert Kennedy, who was appointed by King Robert the Bruce as the keeper of Loch Doon,” she said. She emphasized the word King, hoping they would understand her loyalties.

  “I married Daniel Sinclair, brother to Laird Robert Sinclair, by order of the King. Daniel and I are now keepers of the King’s ancestral castle. We have been beset by an English army, and Loch Doon and all those within are in grave danger. I came to beg King Robert to hasten his army south in hopes of saving the castle.”

  She exhaled and slumped slightly in the saddle. She’d laid her identity and her plan in front of these men. Her fate was now in their hands.

  “Christ, lass,” the second man exclaimed. He shot a look at his companion, who pinned her with another stare. After a long pause, the first man nodded to the second grudgingly.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, the second man stepped toward her. Startled, she tugged on Bella’s reins, drawing the animal several steps backward.

  “You have yet to tell me who you are,” she said, darting her gaze between the two men.

  The first man regarded her cautiously, but he spoke. “I am Finn Sutherland,” he said. “And we are part of the King’s rebel army.”

  “And I am Ansel Sutherland,” said the second man, resting his hand casually on the hilt of his sword. “I believe we may be family, though distantly.”

  Rona blinked back and forth between the two of them. “You mean you two are related?” she said, trying to understand the one called Ansel’s words.

  Ansel shot a glance at Finn.

  “Well, aye, Finn and I are both Sutherlands and probably have some distant great-uncle in common,” he said, “but I meant that you and I are family.” He turned back to her with a warm smile.

  “W-what?”

  This was all too much. First she was set upon by these Highland warriors, and now one was saying they were related?

  “Daniel Sinclair has a cousin named Burke, aye?”

  She nodded numbly.

  “Burke is married to my sister.”

  “Meredith?” Rona felt her eyes go wide, and Ansel’s mirrored hers.

  “You know her?”

  “She is at Loch Doon!” The brief surprise at her unusual connection to this strange Highlander evaporated as the gravity of the situation crashed down on her once more.

  “What? I knew that Burke had traveled to the castle, and Garrick and Robert Sinclair as well, but why is Meredith there?” Ansel said, his face darkening in worry.

  “I’ll explain later,” Rona said. She’d also want an explanation for how they knew the others were at Loch Doon, but it would have to wait.

  “I need to speak to the Bruce—now.”

  With Ansel and Finn flanking Bella, Rona rode into Robert the Bruce’s teeming camp nestled in the middle of the woods. Finn sent up a loud, trilling whistle, and the camp’s men erupted into a flurry of action. Within moments, several of the simple canvas tents surrounding them collapsed as the men began breaking camp.

  Just as they approached the largest tent in sight, the tent’s flap was thrown back and a tall, bearded man emerged.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted to no one in particular.

  The man caught sight of Finn and strode toward them. As he drew nearer, Rona saw that he was only a few years older than Daniel, and his beard belied faint traces of red that his brown hair did not. Though he was dressed simply like the rest of the men, his cloak was fastened with an ornate and finely made brooch.

  “Why did you give the signal to break camp?” the man said as he came to a halt in front of Finn. “And without asking or even informing me.”

  The man’s gaze flickered to her, and his brow furrowed. “Explain yourself,” he said to Finn, though his eyes remained on Rona.

  “King Robert?” Rona breathed, feeling as if she were waking from a dream. Despite the fact that this man had guided the direction of her life in fundamental ways, from sending her family to Loch Doon to ordering her to marry Daniel, she had never laid eyes on him before.

  She threw her leg over Bella’s neck and slid to the ground. When her feet hit the forest floor, she wobbled unsteadily, suddenly feeling the long hours she’d spent in the saddle and the meager food she’d eaten in the last week.

  The King was instantly at her side, steadying her by the arms.

  “And who are you, lass?” he said, a frown still creasing his brow.

  “This is Rona Sinclair, sire, née Kennedy,” Finn said pointedly.

  Comprehension flitted over the Bruce’s features, but then his grip tightened on her arms and his face stiffened.

  “What has happened?” he said, dread and urgency mingling in his voice.

  “Tell him what you told us,” Ansel said gently from her side. Then he turned to the Bruce.

  “We’ll see to the men. We’ll take responsibility for mobilizing the camp if you disagree with us once you’ve heard the lass out, but for now, haste is of the essence.”

  The Bruce nodded quickly to Finn and Ansel, which was all the permission they needed. They both shot off into the camp shouting orders and organizing the rebel army.

  “Come,” he said, guiding her toward the large tent from which he had emerged.

  As he held the tent flap back for her, he turned to the guard that stood outside and spoke quietly. “Some spiced wine and food for my guest.”

  Once they were inside, he guided her to a chair to sit. “How is your father,” the King said levelly.

  She sank down into the cushioned chair gratefully.

  “He is…well, your Majesty,” she said simply, unsure of how to address her King.

  He rubbed his beard for a moment and considered her.

  “You are here to deliver dire news,” he said, scanning her disheveled appearance. “Please dispense with formalities and niceties in favor of the blunt truth.”

  Her jaw slackened slightly, but he gave her a kind, worried look in response.

  “You have clearly survived something terrible and have traveled alone to reach me. What has happened?”

  She launched into the events that had brought her here, only sparing details when it would slow her down. She explained that her father had left Loch Doon peacefully, and that Daniel had brought the castle into smooth working order quickly. She told him of Daniel’s suspicions that someone within the castle was scheming against them, and of the arrival of Robert, Garrick, Burke, and their wives. Planning the siege against Dunbraes had gone smoothly enough, but then she’d been captured by Raef Warren in the Galloway woods.

  She didn’t mention what she’d been doing in the woods, for it wasn’t pressing.
A small part of her feared the consequences her King would level against her if he found out that she had trained and flown a falcon above her station. She would face his punishment if it came to that, but she couldn’t think about it now.

  She told him of her captivity with Warren, and how Daniel and the others had come for her, but that Warren had sent his army to Loch Doon while it stood vulnerable in their absence. She explained that Daniel had left her safely with friends in the woods near the castle and that he and the others had gone on to try to aid in the castle’s defense. They were hoping against hope that the King’s army would reach them in time, but they didn’t know how long they could hold off Warren’s men. So she’d taken matters into her own hands and came looking for the rebel army, hoping that if they rushed southward, they’d make it to the castle in time before all was lost.

  Partway through her story, the guard entered silently and deposited a cup of spiced wine and a trencher of food in front of her, along with a bowl of hot water in which to wash her hands. The Bruce waved for her to help herself as she continued with her account. By the time she neared the end of her rushed story, the wine warmed her belly and the food had revived her somewhat.

  The King stood and paced as she spoke, clearly agitated. Even before she’d finished speaking, he began darting around the tent, first strapping a sword to his hip, then tossing the papers that were strewn across his wooden desk into a drawer.

  “David!” he shouted when her tale was concluded. The guard immediately appeared at the tent’s flap. “How soon can we move?”

  “Only your tent remains, sire,” the guard replied.

  The Bruce nodded curtly and strode to Rona. “Do you have the strength to ride?” he asked as he helped her up from the chair and moved toward the tent flap. “If not, we can leave you here with the more cumbersome supplies and the other women who help run the camp.”

  “I’m going with you, even if you have to tie me to the saddle,” Rona said, feeling a spark of her old self kindle within her.

  The Bruce paused outside his tent and quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “I imagine you fit right in with the Sinclairs. I’ve matched you well.”

  Before she had time to respond, Finn and Ansel appeared on horseback, along with another young warrior.

  “The men are ready to move with all haste,” the fair-haired young man said.

  “Thank you, Colin,” the Bruce replied.

  Just then an enormous, gnarled old warrior approached, leading three horses behind him. His unruly hair and beard matched Rona’s fiery locks. The giant handed one set of reins to the Bruce, who swung easily into the saddle. Then the old warrior guided a horse in front of her and she realized it was Bella, looking surprisingly refreshed even though she’d only been resting in the camp for about an hour.

  “I gave her a rubdown and a few extra lumps of sugar,” the red-headed warrior said to her with a wink, seeming to read her mind. “I’m Angus.”

  Without waiting for a reply from her, Angus wrapped his large, knotted hands around her waist and hoisted her into Bella’s saddle. Then he mounted his own horse, and Rona took the opportunity to look around.

  The fog from earlier in the day had burned off, revealing their surroundings. What had been a teeming camp a mere hour ago was now just another patch of forest—a patch of forest filled with hundreds of Scottish warriors bristling with weapons and looking expectantly at the group on horseback surrounding her.

  At the rear of the sea of soldiers, she could make out a gathering of unarmed people and a few tents that remained erect. Those people and supplies must be staying to allow them to move more quickly. Even without them, how long would it take an army of several hundred men to march to Loch Doon?

  The King turned to her, pulling her out of her churning thoughts.

  “How do you suggest we approach the castle?”

  Suddenly, she felt several intent sets of eyes on her. She nearly shrank back, terrified at the thought of commanding the King and his army. But she knew if there was ever a time for her willfulness to emerge, this was it.

  “The English came from the east. They are likely on the loch’s eastern shore. As we head south, we should cut east enough to move in on them from behind, pinning them between your army and the loch,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

  The Bruce nodded to her, his eyes alight with urgency and fervor. He turned his attention to the men gathered before him.

  “We are headed into battle, men!” he shouted.

  A fierce rumble went up from the warriors.

  The Bruce sent up a whistle, which was picked up by the other men on horseback surrounding her. Then he gestured with his arm toward the southeast and spurred his horse forward. The army marched in triple time behind them, their feet setting the ground rumbling.

  Rona dug her heels into Bella’s flanks, praying they would make it in time.

  HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Meredith darted from the door to the great hall toward Daniel, her arms full of tallow candles.

  “This is the last of them,” she breathed as she passed the armload of candles to Daniel.

  She turned and scrambled back toward the safety of the great hall, looking overhead as she did. Arrows continued to drop occasionally over the curtain wall and into the yard, though blessedly the locust-like swarm of arrows raining down on them had ceased.

  Once he saw that Meredith was securely inside the great hall, he spun around and strode to the enormous iron caldron in the middle of the yard. One of the men used a long wooden pole to stir the contents of the caldron from several feet away to avoid the heat of the roaring fire underneath it.

  Daniel dumped the castle’s candles into the caldron, watching the tallow melt and blend into the rest of the animal fat almost instantly.

  “Is it ready?” Robert said as he strode toward Daniel from the wall.

  “Aye, but Robert…this is all of it.”

  Daniel locked eyes with his older brother for a moment. They’d dumped the storeroom’s entire barrel of tallow into the caldron, and Meredith and Alwin had been at work collecting every last candle within the castle. They’d even slaughtered the few animals kept at the castle and rendered their fat as best as they could. Normally they would have kept the animals alive as long as possible in case they were trapped in the castle for several weeks and needed fresh food. But they wouldn’t withstand the attack from Warren’s men for another week or even just a few days. This was their last hope.

  Robert gave Daniel a terse nod, his face grim. He pivoted and brought his fingers to his lips, whistling loudly. A moment later, Garrick appeared at the bottom of the stairs leading to the battlements.

  “Is it time?” Garrick said, trotting to the smoking caldron of animal fat.

  “Aye,” Daniel replied. “Where are the English most densely packed?”

  “On the island’s eastern shore, though they continue to move toward the main gate and the postern gate.”

  As if to prove Garrick’s words, another loud thump came from outside the main gate. Daniel tried to block out the sound, which had started in the middle of the night and had hammered on until now.

  He glanced up at the blue-pink dawn sky. This was the second breaking of dawn since the castle had been under attack. He wasn’t sure they would see a third.

  They’d managed to pass a relatively quiet first night after Daniel and the others had made it to the castle. The Englishmen on the far shore had apparently deemed it unwise to try to cross the loch’s dark waters at night. But as soon as the sky lightened on the first full day of the attack, the English once again took to their makeshift rafts, some of which managed to land on the castle’s island.

  The castle’s men had had their hands full trying to pick off the armored soldiers one at a time, and by that evening, there were enough Englishmen on the island to unlash their rafts and use one of the large tree trunks as a battering ram against the
main gate.

  The dull crash of the trunk against the main gate’s thick wooden doors jarred through Daniel’s thoughts yet again.

  “Even if they splinter the main gate, the iron portcullis will hold,” he said more to himself than his brothers. “We should concentrate on the men at the postern gate.”

  Robert nodded, and Garrick took off toward the battlements above the postern gate to prepare the castle’s men.

  Burke suddenly appeared at Robert and Daniel’s side carrying a long and thick wooden beam over one shoulder.

  “It’s probably time to tell the women to bar the hall’s doors,” Daniel said to Burke. Despite his initial assumption that Jossalyn, Alwin, and Meredith would stay safely ensconced behind the tower keep’s stone walls, they had been an immeasurable help in the last day and a half. Jossalyn tended to arrow wounds as the attacking bowmen continued to fire over the castle’s walls. Alwin and Meredith had kept the castle’s staff out of harm’s way and made sure the men ate heartily to keep up their strength.

  “I already did,” Burke replied. “They have a beam like this over the door, and all the windows, even the loopholes and arrow slits, have been sealed.”

  Burke rolled the wooden beam off his shoulder and guided it through the hooped handle holding the caldron on a spit over the fire. Daniel and Robert took up the other end. With another man on Burke’s end, they hoisted the caldron off the fire and set the beam on their shoulders. Slowly, so as not to spill the near-boiling animal fat brimming in the caldron, they paced across the yard and toward the curtain wall.

  As they made their way up the stairs and onto the battlement, the castle’s men moved out of their way. Daniel overheard Garrick directing the archers’ attention to the men ramming the main gate in an effort to make the most of this last effort.

  They propped the caldron on one of the merlons directly above the postern gate and inched it into position. As the others removed the wooden beam from the caldron’s handle, Daniel chanced a glance over the wall. Dozens of mail-clad English soldiers swarmed below looking for a way to break down the postern gate.