Highland Protector

by Hannah Howell

  Ranald nodded and Simon could not believe the ease with which it was done. He knew the king could yet change his mind, but the fact that the king had already told Ranald to see to it was reason to hope that Lochancorrie could be saved. After a short while of answering the king’s questions yet not giving the man the names he wanted, Simon left and hurried back to the tavern where Tormand waited for him.

  “ ‘Tis strange to see ye sitting all alone in a tavern,” Simon said as he sat down.

  “I am a married mon,” said Tormand.

  Simon wondered if Tormand would ever tire of saying that and somehow doubted he would. It made him envious. “And ye have oozing teeth. Why do I think that was Morainn’s idea?” He shook his head when Tormand grinned, displaying those horrific teeth.

  “Weel, did ye get to see the king?”

  “Aye. He was pleased to hear this is all nearing an end, but I think he started to become annoyed that I would nay give him any names until I had the leader in my hands. He did sympathize with me o’er the chance that one of my blood may be involved. In truth, I think he kens exactly who may be involved but naught was said. What he did do was say I could have the land if it was forfeit. He even told old Ranald to see to it.”

  “Again–a large concern lifted.” Tormand finished his tankard of ale and stood up. “I wish to be home now. I but stayed to hear what news ye might have from the king. It will be good to have this at an end soon. Ilsabeth’s family can regain their home and Ilsabeth can join them. And ye, my friend, can return to the life ye had ere she tripped into your home with those two foundlings. Rest weel.”

  “Ye, too,” Simon grumbled.

  He would not have been surprised if Tormand grinned all the way home. Simon could tell by the look his friend gave him as he had spoken of life returning to normal that Tormand knew Simon did not truly want that. What Tormand could not know was that it might be all Simon could allow. Ilsabeth had a large, loving family eager to take her home. Simon had a mad brother and three missing ones plus lands that had been held under Henry’s boot heel for too long. It could be that there was no sane way to put two such disparate people together in any more than a brief affair.

  Chapter 13

  Humming quietly to herself, Ilsabeth washed the floor in the entrance hall of Simon’s house. She was going to have to speak to Simon about hiring a maid to help Old Bega. Although the woman was strong and healthy, there was too much work for just one woman to do. MacBean helped but having some girl come in from town every day would make a great deal of difference. Ilsabeth resolutely silenced the voice that said she would be the one to make such decisions. Simon had given no indication that she would be.

  For the moment, Ilsabeth did not mind working hard and for long hours. In truth, she welcomed it. When Simon had first captured David, she had been elated. Common sense told her she had been a fool to have thought capturing the man would put an end to her and her family’s suffering, but she had thought it anyway. Now, three long days afterward, she was more frustrated than she had been before David had been taken. Simon was not

  telling her much except to warn her not to speak of the fact that he held David, and that silence did nothing to help ease her frustration.

  She forced herself to look at all the activity that had been going on since Simon had grabbed David right off the streets near the inn where the man had been staying. Simon’s men were in and out of the house at all hours, running in to speak to him in urgent tones and then disappearing again. And Simon worked day and night, although he still managed to find the time to make love to her, she thought, and suddenly grinned.

  “Ye are happy to be working like some lowly kitchen maid, are ye?”

  Ilsabeth’s good humor faded so quickly she was astonished she did not cry out at the abrupt loss. Instead, she looked up and met the hard gaze of Sir Walter Hepbourn. There were six of the king’s soldiers with him. Ilsabeth did not even think. She leapt up, kicked Walter in the knee and then fled to the back of the house.

  “Get back here, ye traitorous bitch!”

  One quick glance behind her showed Walter signaling to the soldiers to go after her, and then limping along behind them. When Ilsabeth reached the door to the garden she thought she had made good her escape. She was not sure where she would go, but Simon’s house was no longer safe for her. Yanking open the door, she took one step into the garden only to see two of the king’s soldiers running into the garden through the gate. She turned to go back into the house, thinking there might be a place to hide, but one look inside told her that there was no safety to be found there. Old Bega and MacBean were trying to hold the soldiers back with a broom and a spade and she feared they would get themselves killed.

  A hand closing tightly around her arm reminded Ilsabeth that not all the king’s soldiers were in the kitchen. She turned so quickly the man had no time to defend himself against the punch she aimed at his nose. Ilsabeth cursed almost as vehemently as the soldier did when her fist connected with his long nose. Her hand hurt so badly she was not sure if that cracking noise she had heard as her fist struck the man was her fist or his nose breaking.

  “Run, Ilsabeth!” yelled Reid as he leapt onto the back of the second soldier and began to pound on the man’s head with both of his small fists while Elen skipped around kicking the man in the legs. The soldier she had struck held on to his bleeding nose and moaned. “Run!” Reid yelled again. “Ye can get to the gate now.”

  To use two children to help shield herself felt wrong but Ilsabeth knew she could not risk being taken prisoner. It was clear to see that the soldiers that Walter had chosen were the kind of men who could not bring themselves to hurt their elders or children for none of her stalwart defenders were hurt yet they were not being so gentle with the soldiers. On the other hand, those same soldiers were trying to drag her away to be imprisoned and then tried, convicted, and executed. Ilsabeth knew she had no choices left. Simon would have to clean up the mess she left behind. That would be far easier for him to do than getting her free of the king’s soldiers and dungeons. She turned and ran for the gate.

  “Stop, Ilsabeth!” yelled Walter. “Ye have no say o’er me.” She reached out for the latch on the garden gate. “Oh, aye, I believe I do.”

  The icy smugness of his tone sent an abrupt chill of alarm down Ilsabeth’s spine. Walter sounded very smug indeed and that was never a good thing. She also noticed that everyone else had gone very quiet. It was possible the quiet was just everyone waiting to see if she would obey Walter, but she doubted it. He had some plan he felt certain would bring her to willingly walk into his grasp. Ilsabeth looked down at her hand on the gate latch and then sighed, turning to look back at Walter.

  Her heart leapt up into her throat so quickly she nearly gagged. A smiling Walter held a wide-eyed Elen with one arm curled around her middle. In his free hand was a very large, very sharp knife. It was pressed against the child’s throat. Ilsabeth was terrified. Elen was too young to understand the need to keep as still as she could. At any moment Elen could begin to squirm and easily end up with her throat cut.

  “ ‘Tis just a bairn, sir,” said one of the soldiers, a big, heavily muscled man who watched Walter and made no attempt to hide his disgust. “I dinnae abide with using a wee bairn to threaten someone.”

  “And I cannae abide failure or traitors,” snapped Walter. “This woman killed the king’s cousin and is plotting to kill the king.”

  “All by her wee self or are the bairns going to help her?”

  “Best ye watch yourself, Gowan. ‘Tis ne’er wise to speak to your betters that way, laddie.”

  Ilsabeth chanced a glance at the soldier who so openly disagreed with Walter’s actions. It was obvious the man was biting down hard on his tongue so that he did not blurt out his opinion of who was the better man. The other soldiers said nothing but looked as if they agreed with Gowan. Elen remained remarkably still while a white-faced MacBean stood in the doorway, his gnarled hand patting the shoulder
of a weeping Old Bega. Reid stood utterly still right in front of Walter, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on his sister. It had to be Reid who was keeping the ever busy Elen so still, Ilsabeth was certain of it, but he could not do it for hours.

  “Put her down, Walter,” Ilsabeth said in as cold and calm a voice as she could muster. “The child has done naught to ye. She is no part of all this.”

  “We make a trade. Ye for this child. Ye step o’er here and I will set the lass down so that she can run to her brother. If ye keep refusing, I will cut her wee throat.”

  “Bastard.”

  There was no other choice for her to make. It was her or Elen. There was something in Walter’s gaze that told her he was not bluffing. That Walter could even think of killing such a small child just because he did not wish to fight for his prize made Ilsabeth ill. What had she seen in such a man? A better question might be, how could she have missed this ugly side of him?

  Praying that Simon was close to bringing this man to justice, Ilsabeth marched over to him. “Put her down now, Walter. And if there is e’en one drop of blood on her, I will eviscerate you.”

  Walter snorted in crude derision of her threat. “Ye? Wheesht, ye havenae got a warrior’s skill or heart, lass.”

  He set Elen down. Reid grabbed his sister and ran to MacBean and Old Bega. Ilsabeth waited until Walter looked at her and then she punched him right in his lovely bright smile. She heard one of the soldiers mutter that he could have told the fool Ilsabeth would do that and she suspected it was the man she had punched in the nose. While he stood there trapped by a sense of shock, she took full advantage of it and rammed her knee into his groin.

  As Walter fell to his knees retching and moaning in pain, Ilsabeth looked at the soldiers. They eyed Walter with a man’s sympathy for the pain but little else. She took a cautious step toward the door. They all shifted position just enough to keep her trapped in the kitchen. They might not like Walter or agree with all he did, but they were loyal to the king and she was an accused traitor. There was no escape.

  “Ye bitch, ye bitch, ye bitch,” Walter said, his voice growing louder with each word as he staggered to his feet. “God’s tears but I will enjoy watching your execution.”

  That scared her nearly witless, but she pushed away the horror of what she might yet face if Simon could not save her in time. “We will see who will watch who die,” she said quietly.

  Walter reached for her, but Gowan grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the way. “She is the king’s prisoner, sir.”

  “Ye are protecting this traitor?” Walter said, glaring at the man.

  Gowan did not even blink. “I am holding the king’s prisoner, sir. One the king himself is eager to speak to. I am thinking he would like her to be able to speak. In your anger ye may do something that will prevent that. Shall we go?”

  “Ilsabeth,” Reid said, his young voice shaking with the tears she knew he would fight not to shed before all these men.

  “Hush, Reid,” she said, and smiled at him. “Ye will be safe here.”

  “I will go and fetch Simon.”

  “Aye, ye do that, laddie,” said Walter. “He has a few questions to answer. The first being why he was hiding away a woman wanted for treason.”

  “He was protecting the king’s prisoner,” said Ilsabeth. “When ye came I was scrubbing the floor, Walter. That is hardly the act of a woman creeping about and ready to flee. And ye do ken that Sir Innes would ne’er turn a person o’er to trial and execution until he was verra sure that was what was warranted. Mayhap he just feared that he wouldnae be given the chance to find out the truth ere some zealous fool executed me.”

  “Get her out of here,” he snapped at the soldiers, and then he glared at MacBean. “Ye best tell your master he has some explaining to do. The king will be verra interested in where we found this traitor.”

  “She isnae a traitor,” yelled Reid as the soldiers escorted Ilsabeth out of the house, Walter limping behind them. He looked at MacBean after the door shut behind the men. “She isnae.”

  “Of course she isnae, laddie,” said MacBean. “Best ye and I go and hunt down Simon. He needs to ken what game is being played now. I am thinking he will also be in need of a few calm heads about when he hears this.”

  Ilsabeth stared at the king, idly thinking that he did not look any different from any other man yet not sure why she had ever thought that he would. What he did look like, however, was an angry man and this one had the power to cause her some real harm. Walter stood near her, but she noticed that Gowan managed to always keep himself between her and Walter.

  “She was found in Sir Simon’s own house?” the king asked.

  “Aye, my liege,” replied Walter. “He was hiding her beneath his own roof.”

  The king leaned forward in his chair and studied Ilsabeth, frowning at her water-stained and worn skirts. “He wasnae keeping her verra weel, was he? What is that on your skirts, woman?”

  “I was scrubbing the floor when the soldiers arrived, my liege,” Ilsabeth replied, and watched Gowan nod when the king glanced at him for confirmation.

  “No guards? No bonds?”

  “Nay, sire,” replied Walter.

  “I was asking the lass here, Sir Hepbourn.” The king looked at Ilsabeth. “Weel?”

  “No bonds, sire, but MacBean was my guard,” Ilsabeth said.

  “I see. And how long have ye been there, living under Sir Simon’s roof?”

  “Since three days after I had to run from my home, sire.”

  Anger tightened the king’s features. “After ye stuck your dagger in my cousin.”

  “Nay, sire. I ne’er even met your cousin. I have no idea how my dagger ended up in him but it soon became clear that I wasnae going to have a chance to find out or defend myself.”

  “So I am to believe that ye didnae kill Ian and ye arenae planning to kill me. Ye and your family are all innocent, are they?”

  “Aye, sire.”

  Walter snorted. “No Armstrong has e’er been innocent.”

  Ilsabeth glared at him. “Ye still have all your cattle, dinnae ye?” She heard one of the soldiers snicker, then hastily smother the noise after one glance from the king.

  “Weel, I think I must speak to Sir Simon. I must say I am disappointed that he didnae tell me he already had ye in his possession. It makes me wonder what game he is playing and I grow verra weary of games.”

  “Sire, all he does is seek the truth,” Ilsabeth said. “My kin asked him to find the truth about the accusations against us. That is all he has been doing.”

  “We shall see. Take her and lock her up.”

  Ilsabeth fought the urge to try and wrestle free of her guard. It took all of her willpower but she managed to leave the king’s presence with her back straight. That strength waned with every step they took down into the bowels of the castle. She prayed that Simon could help her soon for she was not sure how long she could remain sane in such a desolate place.

  Simon tensed with alarm when MacBean and Reid arrived at the little cottage where they were now keeping David. He had told MacBean where it was so that he could be reached in an emergency. The fact that Reid looked as if he had been crying only increased his alarm.

  “The soldiers came to the house today,” said Mac-Bean. “Sir Walter Hepbourn brought them and they have taken away Ilsabeth.”

  For a moment not a single thought went through Simon’s head. Then fear rushed through his body and he began to move to the door, his speed increasing with every step. He was about to open the door when MacBean and Peter leapt on him, holding him firmly to the floor as he thrashed and cursed them. It took him more minutes than he cared to consider before his fear receded and his mind cleared.

  “Let me up,” he demanded.

  “Ye arenae going to go racing off to rescue her, are ye?” asked MacBean.

  “Nay just yet,” he said and, after Peter and Mac-Bean got off him, he stood up and brushed off his clothes.

 
“What do ye mean by nay yet?” demanded Peter.

  “I mean that I will do all I can to bring the real traitors to the king and get her out of the prison she now sits in,” Simon replied. “But, if there is a trial and it even looks as if she will be marked for execution, I will get her away from here.”

  “Fair enough,” said Peter, and moved to pour MacBean an ale and get Reid some cider.

  “Tell me exactly what happened,” Simon asked MacBean, and listened carefully as MacBean and Reid told him everything they had witnessed.

  “Gowan is a good mon,” said Peter.

  “Aye, he is, and I can find some comfort in the fact that he kens she is there as weel as the sort of mon Hepbourn is.” Simon dragged his hand through his hair. “I misjudged the man. Somehow he found out where Ilsabeth was. He kenned she had been seen about town but I cannae see how he would feel sure enough that I sheltered her that he would drag the king and his soldiers into it.”

  “That is something only he can answer.”

  “And I will ask him when ‘tis my turn to question him. But now I had best go and see the king.”

  “May I come?” asked Reid.

  Simon stared down at the boy for a moment. Reid was a handsome little boy and it was clear that he loved Ilsabeth. Simon also knew that the king had a soft heart when it came to small children. It might not help Ilsabeth much for the king to see the foundling boy she had taken in, but it certainly could not hurt.

  “Do it,” said Peter. “It may help if he sees that she has the heart to take in a child and that the child loves her. ‘Tis the way of some men to believe that a lass who can love and be loved by a child couldnae possibly do something like kill a mon or betray a king.”

  Simon took Reid with him, swinging the boy up into the saddle of his black gelding and then mounting behind the child. Reid was silent and Simon appreciated the boy’s quiet for he had to think. He was sure that Hepbourn would have taken full advantage of the fact that Ilsabeth had been hiding in his home, making sure the king heard it and heard it again. Simon knew he was going to have to have a very good explanation for something that could easily put him in with the traitors, at least in the king’s eyes.