“Yes, I’m sure he was,” she said, trying to coax him to tell her more of the story.
“However, Albert wasn’t good with a sword at all. He didn’t like fighting and had told my father just the day before that he wanted to be a monk.”
“I don’t suppose your father liked that,” she said, understanding.
“Nay. Not at all. That made my father even more adamant to teach him how to fight. He wanted strong sons – strong warriors. I’m the eldest and have always had an interest in weapons and fighting. I learned fast and Father was very proud of me.”
“You have another brother, too, don’t you?” she asked.
“Aye.” He dragged a hand through his hair and a shadow darkened his face. “Jamesson was captured during a skirmish and taken prisoner a few months ago. I have two sisters, also. But getting back to the story, my father’s foot slipped in the mud that day, causing him to fall into my brother. His sword went right through Albert’s heart, killing him instantly. Albert wasn’t skilled enough to protect himself. It was all an accident, but my mother blamed my father and said she wanted nothing to do with him ever again.”
“Oh, how sad,” she said, her heart going out to his family. “Where did she go?”
“After my mother and father fought, she decided to leave with my sisters, Juliana and Susanna. She wanted to take her sons as well, but my father wouldn’t hear of it. I am his heir to the castle and Jamesson will inherit should I die as well as my father. It wasn’t feasible for us to go, so we stayed with our father.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know for sure, but we got word from a messenger that she had the marriage annulled, saying my father was mad. She married a French baron who always had his eye on her, but my father keeps insisting she is going to return.”
“Do you think she will return to your father and Castle Heaton?” asked Winter.
“Nay. She’s already had the marriage annulled and is married to someone else. She’s not coming back and neither are my sisters.”
“Have you tried to contact her at all over the years?”
“We were told in another missive that if any of us tried to contact her or my sisters, there would be war between the French and us. As much as I wanted to talk to my mother and sisters again, I respected my mother’s wishes and never contacted her. My father, on the other hand, went mad, just like my mother accused him of being. Sometimes he seems no different than the father I once knew, but other times he seems so addled that I don’t even know him.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her hand over his in comfort. “I know how hard this must be for you.”
“What about your family, Winter? I feel as if I don’t know much about you at all.”
“There isn’t much to tell.”
“You said your parents were separated and now they are back together.”
“Yes. It happened when I was a child. It was during Burnt Candlemas. It was also the night my brothers, Rowen, Rook, and Reed found out their birth mother was a mistress to King Edward and that she died birthing them. You see, they thought my mother, Annalyse, was their mother. She was the twin to their mother, Gabrielle.”
“And they thought your father was their father. I see.”
“Yes. They had no idea Ross Douglas only married my mother to help raise the boys after Gabrielle’s death.”
“Ross Douglas?” His head snapped upward.
“Yes, that is my father’s name.”
“Then you really are a – a Scot.”
“Half Scottish,” she said with a nod, feeling something was upsetting him. “My father told my brothers the truth about who they were the night of Burnt Candlemas. My brothers vowed vengeance against Edward and left. My mother was so upset that my father didn’t go after them, that she gathered up my sisters, Summer, Autumn and me and took us back to England to live. My sister, Spring, was stolen as a baby and raised by the Gunn Clan. We just recently found her.”
“Really.” His eyes opened wide. “That is some story.”
“It wasn’t until recently that my father came to England and made amends with my mother. Now they are back together and very happy living in the Lowlands of Scotland.”
“God’s eyes, I didn’t know you had family in the Lowlands. I thought you were English – or at least I wanted to believe that you were.” He stood up, seeming very antsy.
“What’s the matter, Martin?”
He shook his head as if he were shaking away an ill thought. “I’m just anxious to save my brother, Jamesson. I should never have waited this long.”
They were interrupted by loud knocking on the door before Winter had the chance to ask him who captured his brother.
“My lord, come quickly,” came Rock’s voice from the other side of the locked door.
Martin ran from the room, ripping open the door. “What is it? Has something happened?”
Winter held her cloak closed, following him to the door.
“Aye,” said Rock, sounding out of breath. “The prisoner has escaped.”
“Escaped?” Martin yelled, pacing the floor now. “How the hell did that happen?”
“I set him free,” said Victoria, appearing in the corridor next to Rock.
“I ought to kill you where you stand!” said Martin, his face turning bright red. Winter could tell he fought hard to hold back his anger. His hands balled up into fists at his sides.
“I sneaked to the dungeon when the guard wasn’t at his post and let the poor man free,” she answered snidely. “I figured no one needed to be a prisoner, not even him.”
“You fool!” spat Martin. “You have no idea what you’ve done. You’ve just sentenced my brother to death.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” Victoria answered, not at all seeming upset by her action.
“Get out of my castle and out of my sight, Victoria, or I will kill you with my bare hands, I swear I will.”
Victoria’s eyes opened wide in fear. She turned and ran down the corridor without looking back.
“Rock, get my chain mail and armor and meet me in the courtyard,” commanded Martin. “We have no choice now but to fight.” He hurried over and strapped on his weapon belt, then lifted his new sword in the air. “Thank goodness you finished this, Lady Winter, because it is what I’m going to use to kill every last one of Clan Dunbar if I have to, in order to bring my brother home safely.”
His words shocked Winter. “The Scots are the ones holding your brother?” she asked, never having suspected this.
“Aye,” he snarled, his upper lip curling in the process. “I hate the bloody Scots.”
“I’m a Scot!” she shouted, horrified to see this side of Martin rising to the surface. “You can’t attack them, Martin. Please. Clan Dunbar has been friends and an alliance of my father’s clan for many years.”
“Well, they are no friends of mine. I have no choice, Winter. Now that I’ve lost my leverage, Laird Dunbar has nothing to stop him from killing my brother. My only chance to bring Jamesson home safely is to get to Laird Dunbar first and kill him before he can kill my brother.”
“I can’t believe you are talking like this!” Appalled by what she was hearing, she felt like she didn’t know her new husband after all. “Can’t you make peace instead of war with Clan Dunbar? Do something to make an alliance.”
“I don’t want an alliance with Clan Dunbar,” he said, his jaw clenching as he spoke. “I don’t want anything to do with the bloody Scots at all.”
“It’s too late,” she told him, feeling her anger rising to the surface. “You married me, so you already have something to do with the Scots. Had I known you wanted that sword to kill a Scot, I never would have made it for you at all!”
Chapter 22
“Men, let’s move on out!” Martin gave the command less than an hour later. He sat majestically tall upon his horse dressed in full battle attire. Winter stood outside the great hall with Nairnie, watching the men prepare for the
attack on Clan Dunbar.
“The men are ready,” said Sir Gawain. “I’ve sent a messenger to alert two more troops of our alliances which we’ll meet at the border.”
“Good,” said Martin checking his weapons. “We’ve got no time to spare. Aidar might have already made it back to his clan and warned his father that we’re coming. Hopefully, he is on foot and we’ll be able to make it there before him.”
Winter watched Martin, feeling a surge of emotions run through her. “I can’t just stand here and let him go,” she told Nairnie. “I’ve got to stop him. He might be killed.”
“Ye have no choice, lassie,” Nairnie told her. “Sir Martin is yer husband and does no’ take commands from anyone but himself.”
“I have to try.” She raced across the courtyard, stopping when she reached Martin atop his horse. “Martin, please don’t go.”
“Lady Winter, I will not tell you again not to get involved in my affairs. Now, go back to the keep and stop trying to influence my decisions.” Martin turned into a warlord before her very eyes.
“Nay! If I can’t stop you from leaving, then at least take me with you. I know about Dunbar Castle. My father took me there as a child once and has told me everything about the place just recently. I feel I know it like the back of my hand.”
“I don’t need your help,” he said, totally in control of his emotions. “I’ve got this handled. This sword is all I need to bring me to victory and bring home Jamesson safely.” He held up the sword she’d constructed for him, paying reverence to the blasted thing.
“It’s a good, strong sword, I agree,” she told him. “But it’s not going to save the lives of all your men. The Dunbar Clan is strong and fearless. They fight to the death.”
“My men are well aware that some of them might not come back alive,” he replied.
“Then why are they even going?”
“They are loyal to me, just like I am loyal to the king,” said Martin. “Now, you need to be a loyal wife and not get in my way again.”
“I’m going with you, Martin.” Lambert rushed across the courtyard to meet him. He was dressed in mail and partial plate armor as well.
“Go back to the keep with my wife, Father,” Martin commanded. “You are no longer the warrior you once were and will not be coming with me. I cannot take the risk you’ll do something to endanger yourself or the rest of us.”
“Jamesson is my son!” shouted Martin’s father. “I’ll not sit here and do nothing while I lose another son – or two. I’m going with you.”
“I said, nay!” Finally, Martin showed some emotion, even if it was anger. “Now, I’m not going to tell you two again.”
“Lord de Grey, I’ve got your helm,” said Rock, riding up on a horse to meet him. The helm was under his arm.
“You know I won’t wear it,” grumbled Martin. “I can’t breathe in it nor can I see. Now leave it here and let’s get going.”
“Aye, my lord.” Rock shrugged and threw the helm into a wagon filled with hay. Then he followed Martin and the others as they left to battle the Scots.
“Lord de Grey,” said Winter, addressing Martin’s father. “I know a shortcut as well as a secret passageway to get inside the dungeon of Dunbar Castle. My father has told me all about it.”
“You’re familiar with the castle, are you?” he asked.
“Aye, I know things. My father is friends with Clan Dunbar,” she assured him.
“Do you think you can get us into the dungeon, unseen?”
“I do. I also think I can talk to Laird Dunbar and possibly convince him to agree to an alliance with Martin.”
“Dinna get involved, lassie,” warned Nairnie.
“You know you can’t stop me, Nairnie,” said Winter, talking over her shoulder to the old woman. “I will go by myself if I have to, but I need to try at least.”
“I’ll go with you,” offered Lambert.
“If Winter is too stubborn to stay here, then I’ll be goin’ along as well,” added Nairnie.
“Aye, you might be an asset to us, Nairnie,” said Winter. “You’re Scottish.”
“Aye, child, I am. But I dinna ken the Dunbars.”
“Mayhap that will work to our advantage,” said Winter. “You can cause a distraction so we can sneak into the dungeon.”
“What do ye think I’m capable of doin’?” asked Nairnie, shaking her head.
Winter smiled, putting her hand on Nairnie’s shoulder. “I know you are capable of doing anything you put your mind to – just like me.”
Nairnie sighed. “Yer brathairs and faither will have my head if I let anythin’ happen to ye, lass.”
“Nothing will happen but an alliance and the rescue of Jamesson if things go the way I plan,” answered Winter.
“Then what are we waitin’ for?” asked Nairnie. “Someone find us some horses.”
“Nay, we’ll never get there before my son and his troops on horseback,” said Lambert.
“Then we’re doomed before we even try,” said Winter, feeling helpless now.
“Not necessarily,” said Lambert with a smile. “I know another way we can get there. And we’ll arrive before Martin, I assure you.”
“All right. Then, what are we waiting for?” asked Winter, secretly saying a prayer that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life by listening to an addlepated man.
Chapter 23
“Stop here, Nairnie,” Winter said, slowing her horse, staying at the edge of the woods just before they got to Dunbar Castle. Nairnie stopped the wagon and Lambert brought his horse to a halt as well. They’d brought along an extra horse that would be used in the getaway once they’d released Jamesson from the dungeon.
It would have taken three hours to get here from Castle Heaton, but they’d cut close to an hour off the trip by using Martin’s ship and sailing up the coast, thanks to Lambert. Even though he was thought to be addled, the crew did as he wished. They’d docked in the cove at Skateraw Harbor so they wouldn’t be spotted and now would travel the rest of the way hiding in the back of Nairnie’s wagon. They should be to the castle soon.
Dunbar Castle extended out over the water, on a peninsula of its own. It wasn’t an easy fortress to break into. It had a long bridge leading to the castle, so there were only two ways to enter. The first was to attack by sea. However, the Scots had ships of their own. Being surrounded by water as this castle was, the Scots would have seen Martin’s ship and stopped them before they even got close if they had tried to sail right up to it.
The other way to get inside was to approach directly over the bridge. That was very dangerous since even if the drawbridge was down, most the men would get picked off by arrows from the battlements before they ever made it to the gate. Martin was on a suicide mission. Most of his men wouldn’t even make it to the castle’s door.
“I still dinna like this idea,” complained Nairnie, stopping behind a clump of trees just before the long bridge. “Lady Winter, ye should wait for Martin and his troops to get here and no’ attempt to go inside the Scottish castle’s walls alone.”
“She’s not alone. She’s with me,” said Lambert, slipping out of the wagon and picking a few pieces of hay from his clothes.
“Oh, that makes me feel better,” said Nairnie with a roll of her eyes. “An addled man and a gullible young lassie – not to mention an old fool.” She thumped her hand against her chest, speaking about herself. “I am warnin’ ye, Lady Winter, ye shouldna do this.”
“Why?” asked Winter, pulling a sword out from under the hay and handing it to Lambert. She brought another sword for herself that Josef and Wallace had given her from the smithy. They’d wanted to come along and help her, but she wouldn’t let them. The more people here would only make it easier for the Scots to spot them. Besides, Wallace couldn’t see well and might kill one of his own by accident. “Did you have a vision, Nairnie? A vision that we’ll all be killed?”
“I want to lie to ye, Lady Winter, to make ye give
up this foolish plan, but ye ken I canna do that. Nay, I didna have a vision although I wish I had.”
“Just stick to the plan, Nairnie. Give us a good ten minutes to get into the water and swim to the hidden gate on the far side of the castle where I know we can get in. Then you go to the castle with the flowers to sell just like we planned. After about another ten minutes, start a disturbance of some kind – away from the cart. We’ll sneak Jamesson out of the dungeon and the three of us will hide under the hay in the cart. Then you can drive the cart right out of there with us in it. They’ll think you’re naught but a crazy old woman and be glad to let you go. Once we clear the bridge, we’ll get to the horses and make a mad dash back to the ship before they spot us.”
Winter looked over to Lambert who now had Martin’s discarded helm over his head. “Nay, you can’t wear that,” she told him. “We’re swimming. Just leave it here.”
“Ye canna think this is really goin’ to work without someone gettin’ killed,” said Nairnie.
“If we’re caught, I’m going to demand to see Laird Dunbar,” said Winter. “Hopefully, when he realizes I am Ross Douglas’ daughter, I can talk him into an alliance with Martin.”
“I dinna think he’ll want to make an alliance with a thief who has just broken into his dungeon and stolen his prisoner. And what happens when Martin arrives with his troops and doesna ken we’ve already saved Jamesson?”
“I’ll stay behind and wait for Martin,” said Lambert. “I’ll tell him before they ever get to the bridge.”
“Yer own son thinks ye’re addled,” Nairnie reminded him. “He willna believe ye.”
“He will if we’re with him as well as Jamesson,” said Winter. “We’ll all wait for Martin to arrive.”
“Why did I ever agree to this?” complained Nairnie, shaking her head. “Ye ken if Laird Dunbar catches us, as soon as he finds out ye’re his enemy’s wife, he’s goin’ to kill ye, lassie.”
Winter's Flame (Seasons of Fortitude Series Book 4) Page 19