My Valiant Knight

by Hannah Howell

  Gabel cursed as he watched the Frasers and the MacFibhs scramble over the walls. He still faced a doorway he could not break through. The battle had become a race. His treacherous allies intended to beat him to the MacNairns, planning to kill as many as they could before he could begin to save any. He also suspected that Fraser and MacFibh each ached to be the man to kill the laird of Kengarvey. That was not an honor Gabel really wished to fight them for, even though he knew it could greatly enhance his favor with the king. All he cared about was getting inside Kengarvey before every MacNairn was cruelly slaughtered, before Ainslee could be found by men who only wished her dead.

  The MacNairns had fought hard to hold the king’s army back, and Gabel had to admire them for that. He was also glad that, of all the bodies littering the ground outside of Kengarvey’s walls, only a few were men of Bellefleur. The way Fraser and MacFibh had hurled their men against the high thick walls with little regard for the men’s lives had sickened Gabel. It had eventually worked to overwhelm the MacNairns, but the cost had been too high to justify such tactics. Instead of seeing how badly they had erred, Fraser and MacFibh loudly blamed every death on the MacNairns. Gabel swore to himself that, even if the king himself ordered it, he would never fight with such men again.

  “We are almost through the door, m’lord, and the MacNairns begin to retreat from the other side,” cried one of the men from Bellefleur, who was helping to batter down the thick door.

  Before Gabel could reply, another man cried out for his attention, pushing his way through the men gathered at the gate with such vigor that he stumbled into Gabel. “Look to the north, m’lord. Someone comes.”

  With Justice close at his side, Gabel moved to the rear of his men and looked at the small knot of men to the north of Kengarvey. The group waited at the edges of the tiny village, which still lay in ruins from the last attack upon MacNairn’s lands. One man broke free and rode toward them, gaining confidence when he realized he did not need to fear any deadly arrow fired from the walls.

  “You are a MacNairn?” Gabel questioned as the man reined to a halt in front of him.

  Something about the man made Gabel uneasy. He needed no more of MacNairn’s enemies joining in the fray. The man had to be forty years of age or older, for there was a great deal of dull white streaking his long fair hair. He was slender and elegantly dressed, looking completely unsuited for the battle he coolly watched.

  “Nay,” the man replied. “I am married to Elspeth, Mac-Naims’s eldest daughter.” He bowed slightly, barely tipping more than his head and shoulders. “I am Donald Livingstone.” He lifted one elegant hand when Gabel started to introduce himself. “I ken who ye are, Sir de Amalville.”

  “Why have you come to Kengarvey on this of all days?”

  “To watch, no more. I willna join with ye against my kinsmen by marriage, and I dinna plan to join with my wife’s father either.”

  “Then what reason do you have to be here at all?” snapped Gabel, in no mood for the man’s courtly manners.

  “I heard that the king had ordered this final battle, and felt it was my duty to come and observe the outcome. I refuse to join MacNairn in his traitorous games, but ye must also see why I canna join with ye either. I do, howbeit, wish to ask one gracious favor of ye, m’laird.”

  “If you would but look about you, sir, you would see that I am in the midst of a bloody fight. I have neither the time nor the inclination to be gracious.”

  “This willna impede you, sir. I wish that Ainslee MacNairn be allowed to live.”

  “Why?” Gabel demanded, instinct telling him that he was not going to like the man’s reply at all.

  “I have found a mon who is willing to wed with the disobedient girl.”

  “You come to me to speak of this now? Begone, if you do not mean to aid us or ask to surrender your sword to me. If any of us survive this slaughter, you may seek me out, but later, much, much later.”

  Gabel turned his back on the man and pushed his way through his soldiers to get back to the gates. “The man has to be completely, utterly mad,” he complained to Justice, who struggled to remain close by his side.

  “He but seeks to insure that whatever plots he has devised are not ruined by MacNairn’s death.”

  “And so he rides into the midst of a bloody battle, calmly watches his wife’s kinsmen being cut down, and asks that I try and spare the life of but one? He did not even ask that any of the brothers be saved.”

  “He can gain naught from them except more mouths to feed. Nay, he has a plan, and this battle could easily destroy it.”

  “Well, he shall soon discover that all of his clever plans are for naught. E‘en if I did not plan to keep Ainslee for my own, I would ne’er send her to that man.”

  “Nay, I think she could fare just as poorly beneath his rule, or that of any man he might choose, as she does beneath her brutal father. Look there, Gabel, they have finally broken through those twice-cursed gates.”

  Gabel quickly found himself caught up in the surge of men pushing through the shattered gate. One look around the bailey as he stumbled into it stole away all thought of Donald Livingstone from his mind. The people of Kengarvey were still fighting fiercely, but the MacFibhs and the Frasers were exacting a bloody toll. The allies he had come to detest were caught up in a wild-eyed frenzy of bloodletting, offering no quarter.

  “Sweet Jesu,” murmured a wide-eyed, pale Michael. “ ’Tis as if they are all maddened with hate and the scent of blood. I think they may turn on us if we try to put a halt to their murdering rampage.”

  “Aye,” agreed Gabel, “so we must herd what few souls we can gather into a safe place, and then guard them well.”

  Selecting two archers and three swordsmen from his force, Gabel led them to a corner, carefully placing the still sturdy wall of Kengarvey at their back. Within the semicircle of armed men he created, some of Kengarvey’s terrified people could find protection. He gave them stern instructions that any MacNairn who sought it should be given shelter, and that only one man at a time could leave to try and rescue someone. Assured that his men understood what he wanted, Gabel then strode toward the keep itself. He was not surprised when, a moment later, Michael and Justice hurried to his side.

  “Do we go and search for Lady Ainslee?” Michael asked.

  “Nay—her father,” Gabel replied. “I saw him run in here, leaving his sons to fend for themselves.” He shrugged. “At least I assume that the four young men he deserted were his sons. Fraser’s men were keeping them hard-pressed.” He nodded his approval when, just before they entered the keep itself, Michael signalled a few of Bellefleur’s men to go and try to help the MacNairn sons. “Many will think me raving mad to hope that the sons survive, but Ronald swore to me that the sons are not like their father, and I would prefer to meet Ainslee with the assurance that we had done all we could to try and save her brothers.”

  “Are you sure you wish to confront her father then?” Justice frowned as they entered the great hall to find Duggan MacNairn facing three of MacFibh’s men-at-arms. “It does not look to me as if the man has any intention of surrendering to us, and that means that you must kill him, or step aside and let another do the deed for you.”

  “Nay,” Gabel said, smiling briefly at his cousin, understanding Justice’s silent offer to do the deed. “I will have no difficulty in killing Duggan MacNairn, if only because of the beating he gave Ainslee. That sight has burned in my mind and my innards since the day we lost her at the river. My only hesitation comes from having to face Ainslee later with her father’s blood upon my hands. Howbeit, she has adamantly claimed that she understands that her father has brought this fate upon himself. ’Tis time to push aside MacFibh’s dogs.”

  While he kept a close watch upon Duggan MacNairn, Justice and Michael dismissed the MacFibhs. The three men loudly protested the loss of what they considered to be a very valuable prize. When Michael and Justice nearly came to blows with the MacFibhs, Gabel curtly ordered h
is allies’ men-at-arms to back away. After a moment of tense, belligerent hesitation, the three men did move away, but only for a short distance. Gabel did not like the three men lurking at his back, angry and feeling cheated, but he forced all thought of that possible threat from his mind. Justice and Michael would guard his back. He needed to keep all of his attention fixed upon Duggan MacNairn, for he knew that the man would be willing to try and use any treacherous trick he knew to save himself.

  “You still have a chance to save yourself,” Gabel told Duggan MacNairn.

  “Do ye really think me so dull of wit that I dinna ken exactly what the king wishes to do to me?”

  “You must have a clever tongue, or you would have tripped o’er all the lies you have told over the years. Why not face the king like a man and, if you cannot save yourself, at least you could try to save your sons, Kengarvey, and your people.”

  “They can save themselves. I have my own life to attend to, and if ye think ye can take it, Norman, come ahead,” Duggan said, his voice and his arrogant stance heightening the taunt behind his words.

  Gabel was certain that he would not get the truth out of MacNairn, but he decided to ask after Ainslee. If Duggan gave him a true reply it could save him time, as well as save Ainslee’s life. He found that he needed to dredge up the strength to ask the question, for, if Duggan had hurt Ainslee, the man would savor the chance to taunt him with the fact.

  “Where is your daughter Ainslee?” he demanded.

  “Did ye think to have yourself a wee bit more of the dull slut then?”

  This is going to be far more difficult than I thought, Gabel mused, as he fought against the urge to immediately strike out at the man who insulted Ainslee. “What I mean to do with her will cease to be your concern if you do not soon surrender your sword to me.”

  “The fool lass tried to flee Kengarvey. She should have kenned that no one escapes this place.”

  “You have killed her?”

  “Might have done so by now.” Duggan MacNairn shrugged. “I dinna ken.”

  “Ere ye die, MacNairn, you had best tell me where she is. If you do not, your death here, at my hands, could easily be as painful as the traitor’s death the king plans for you.”

  “The whore rests in the dungeons and has done so for a week, mayhaps more. And, she may truly rest, for she has had naught but water to drink for the whole time she has been caged down there.”

  Gabel was so angry he trembled from the force of it. He struggled to bring it under control, for it could cause him to strike out blindly, and that was just what Duggan MacNairn wanted him to do. It would give the man a dangerous advantage over him. MacNairn spoke of his cruelty to Ainslee, his own daughter, and of his attempt to murder her through starvation, with such gloating that it churned Gabel’s stomach. It was now easy to push aside the concern he felt over how Ainslee might feel if he had to kill her father. Gabel did not think he had ever faced a man who deserved to die more than MacNairn did.

  “Honor forces me to ask you one more time—do you yield?” Gabel asked, his voice hoarse with rage.

  “Nay, ye rutting interloper. If ye are too much the coward to fight me, then bring on another. I shall bathe the great hall in my enemy’s blood.”

  “I think not, you arrogant bastard. ’Tis only your blood which will stain these filthy rushes.”

  The moment his sword struck against MacNairn’s, Gabel felt almost invigorated. He realized that he had been aching to fight the man since that day by the river, when he had been forced to watch helplessly as MacNairn nearly beat his own daughter to death. MacNairn had lived too long and, even if it caused him some trouble with Ainslee later, Gabel knew he wanted to be the one to put an end to the man’s brutal reign.

  He was not surprised when MacNairn proved to be an able fighter. The man had to have skill to have stayed alive for so long. Neither was he surprised when twice he had to fend off an attempted sly, murderous trick by MacNairn, for he had not expected Duggan MacNairn to fight with any honor. What did astound him was the older man’s strength. From the blood and filth smeared all over MacNairn’s padded jupon and mail, it was evident that he had already fought a battle or two, yet, except for a fine sheen of sweat appearing on his brow, MacNairn showed very little sign of tiring.

  It was one slight misstep that ended the battle. MacNairn stumbled, and Gabel took swift advantage of the opening that afforded him, plunging his blade deep into MacNairn’s heart. As he withdrew his sword and watched MacNairn slump lifelessly to the floor, Gabel fought back a brief pang of disappointment. MacNairn had not earned such a quick, clean death. He shrugged, cleaned his blade off on the dead man’s jupon, and resheathed his sword as he turned to face the others.

  “Where have the MacFibhs fled to?” he asked when he saw that Justice and Michael were alone.

  “The moment your sword entered that bastard’s chest, those three men raced out of here,” replied Justice. “They are probably hieing back to their laird to tell him what you have just done.” Justice walked over to MacNairn and roughly nudged him with his boot. “Are you certain that this beast is dead?”

  “You saw my blade point pierce his heart.”

  “Aye, but a man like this often makes one wonder if he even has a heart you can pierce.”

  Gabel’s smile was weak and fleeting, for his next thought was of Ainslee. The mere thought of what her own father had done to her made him shudder. He wondered why he was not racing down into the bowels of Kengarvey. It was a moment before he admitted to himself that fear of what he might find was what held him back. The thought of finding Ainslee dead or dying, starved past redemption, and undoubtedly covered with the bruises and swellings raised by her father’s ready fists, was almost more than he could stomach. The thought which hastily followed that one was that, if she was still alive, she might need his help. It finally gave him the strength to move.

  Justice and Michael were close on his heels as he strode into the hall, grabbed one terrified girl by the arm before she could flee, and demanded that she tell him the way to the dungeons. She fled the moment she told him what he needed to know, and Gabel eased his grip on her arm just enough so that she could wriggle free. As he drew near to the door hiding the stairs which led down into the underbelly of the keep, Gabel’s pace increased, and he began to suffer a few doubts. Finding Ainslee simply could not be this easy.

  The darkness and the damp chill he felt as he descended the stairs added to Gabel’s fears for her safety, as well as his fury at MacNairn. Ainslee had never done anything to deserve such a punishment. Disappointment stabbed sharply at his heart when he found the dungeons empty, but he was not really surprised. There had to be someone at Kengarvey with the kindness to set her free once the battle had turned against the MacNairns and the chances of MacNairn remaining the laird were very slim.

  “But now I must find the wench ere her enemies do so,” he muttered, and lightly slammed his fist against the iron bars.

  “She is a clever woman, Gabel,” Justice said. “She must have fled the keep.”

  “She is also afraid for her people and, despite how little they have done to help her through the years, she will do her best to try and help them.”

  “Then she would make her way to the bailey, for she would be seeking you out, knowing that you will hold to your promise to save as many of her people as you are able to.”

  “And she will be walking into the midst of a battle, chaos, and within the reach of dozens of men eager to kill her,” Gabel said as he started back up the stairs.

  “Remember the woman you seek, cousin.” Justice followed Gabel and paused only to glare at Michael, whose ascent up the stairs was dangerously loud. “Ainslee MacNairn would have gotten her weapons together the moment she was free to do so, and she knows well how to use them.”

  Gabel laughed shortly and harshly, little humor in the sound. “Aye, but even that skilled little girl cannot fight all of the Frasers and the MacFibhs who will be trying to spi
ll her blood.”

  As Gabel raced through the hall of Kengarvey, he saw the fleeting shadows of the terrified people trying to hide within a keep that had now begun to burn. He called out to them, telling everyone who might hear him, that they would be treated fairly and mercifully, if they surrendered themselves to the men of Bellefleur. Realizing that some of the people hiding there might not know which of the enemy swarming over Kengarvey was from Bellefleur, he told them what badge his men wore. Since there was little else he could do beside chase down each man, woman, and child, he turned his full attention to the matter of finding Ainslee. If he could reach her before his blood-crazed allies did, he might yet save her life.

  Nineteen

  The moment Ainslee buckled on her sword, sheathed her daggers, and took up her bow and arrows, she felt a little more at ease. She was still weakened by a lack of food, the appalling conditions of the dungeons, and the beatings she had endured, but she was no longer helpless, no longer trapped and completely at the mercy of whichever one of the enemy happened to stumble upon her. With her poor health and lingering injuries, she would have little chance of winning a fight, but she swore that she would cost the Frasers and the MacFibhs dearly if they tried to kill her.

  Into a small bag she stuffed what little she could find that would be useful if she was forced to flee the keep. Slinging the sack over her shoulder, she cautiously left her tiny chilled bedchamber, watching intently for some sign of the enemy as she crept her way toward the stairs. The only times she hesitated was to briefly search for some of her father’s people so that she could urge them to seek out a Bellefleur man and surrender to him. She only found a few in the upper chambers, and decided that another thing the people of Kengarvey had learned to do with great skill was hide.