by B. J. Scott
Dungal dragged his calloused finger along her chin, down her neck, and across her shoulder, before grabbing her upper arm with a crushing force. “Tell me where I can find Fraser and I may show mercy. Lie to me, and you will join your uncle on the gallows. It would be a shame to see such a pretty neck stretched and snapped by the hangman’s noose.”
Fallon nibbled on her lower lip. She had no idea what to do. Telling Dungal what he wanted to hear might save her uncle’s life, or mayhap could buy him more time. However, there were no guarantees when dealing with the Devil. How could she betray Bryce?
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Her eyes remained focused on her uncle. “I dinna know the man you are looking for. I was summoned to care for my sick aunt. But I arrived too late. She died of the pox shortly after I got here.” She bowed her head and crossed herself.
After a few minutes of silent deliberation, Dungal faced his men. “Take the old man to the village, where he will be tried and punished for treason.”
“Nay!” Fallon lunged forward and clutched Dungal’s forearm. “You canna arrest and execute an innocent man.”
Dungal tossed his head back, a cruel laugh resonating from his chest. But just as quickly, his cynical smirk changed to a threatening scowl. “On King Edward’s orders, I can and will do as I see fit. I have every reason to believe he aided a fugitive wanted for murder, concealed his whereabouts, and allowed him to escape. For those crimes, he will pay. As for you . . .” He paused, then wrenched his arm free of Fallon’s grasp. “I have yet to decide your fate.” He stomped toward his men. “Let’s go.”
“Please, you must listen to me.”
When Dungal failed to acknowledge her plea, she ran to Donald and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry. If only there was something I could do.”
“Hush, Fallon, there is nothing you can say to change things,” her uncle whispered. “Be a good lass and stay here. Once I’ve cleared my name, I’ll be home.”
Fallon tried to hold onto her uncle, but one of the guards grabbed her from behind and tugged them apart.
Donald’s attempt to reassure did little to stay her apprehension. Fallon wrapped her arms around her middle in a protective embrace as she watched them lead her uncle away. Despite his promise, she knew he would never return. He’d be tried and executed, to set an example if nothing more. Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away.
Wailing and pleading would do no good. A heartless man like Dungal would view it as a sign of weakness and use it to his advantage. She’d be of no aid to Donald if they arrested her as well. Guilt twisted her gut. In protecting Bryce, had she betrayed her family?
Fallon crumpled to her knees as the horses thundered away from the croft. “I must do something to help my uncle, but what?” She dropped her head into her hands and prayed for answers that never came.
The gelding spent, Bryce slowed the beast to a walk. He patted the horse’s sweat-soaked neck and spoke softly. “You’ve done yourself proud. Once we arrive at our destination, I’ll see you’re given a generous portion of oats and are put to pasture in a lush field.”
The horse snorted and whinnied as if he understood, then trotted toward the gates of Turnberry. While the rendezvous point with Robert and Alasdair was in an undisclosed area outside the village proper, Bryce had arranged to meet with one of the Bruce’s men in the local tavern. In turn, he’d be escorted to the Bruce’s hiding spot. They expected him to arrive a fortnight ago and he hoped they’d not given up on him.
The bustling seaside village was a flurry of activity. Wares were offered from carts lining the streets. Holding bolts of fabric, iron pots, and finely forged weapons in the air, peddlers called out as he passed. When one item in particular caught Bryce’s eye, he reined in his mount and slid from the saddle. He leaned over the array of broaches, pendants, and hair accessories, plucking a carved wooden horse from the pile.
“Do you have a wee one at home?” the peddler asked.
“Nay, but my brother and his wife have a new babe.” The image of the chubby-cheeked cherub was still fresh in his mind and, the Almighty willing, he intended to be there to watch his nephew grow to manhood. He reached into his pouch, took out a silver coin, and paid the merchant.
Bryce held the toy in his hand and closed his eyes, remembering the last time he spoke with his brother Connor.
“What’s this nonsense I’ve heard about you leaving?” Connor slammed the door and stormed across the chamber.
“It’s a fact.” Bryce glanced over his shoulder in his brother’s direction then returned his attention to the task of packing his clothes.
“You canna go. I’ll not allow it.”
“How do you mean to stop me? I’m a grown man, and you’ll not be dictating what I can do. I’ve lived in your shadow long enough. The time has come for me to strike out on my own.” Rather than meet Connor’s stare of disapproval, Bryce picked up a pair of trews and shoved them into the canvas sack.
“Damnation, Bryce, I care what happens to you. We’ve already lost our parents and two of our brothers to the English. I’ll not have you traipsing off on some fool’s errand the way Alasdair did. Your place is here, at Fraser Castle.”
“Has Hell frozen over then?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Connor grabbed Bryce by the shoulder and spun him around.
Bryce shrugged out of his brother’s grasp and looked him in the eye. “I never thought I would see the day that you, of all people, would question my decision to rejoin the cause. You’ve been hell-bent to rid Scotland of the English as long as I can remember. You were with us at Methven, Dahl Righ, and Kirkenclif, witnessing the carnage. I swore on all that is holy to seek restitution. Robert the Bruce is returning to Scotland. I intend to join him and will finally have my chance to make good on those promises.”
“What makes you think the outcome will be any different this time around?” Connor glared at Bryce. “As laird of Clan Fraser, I forbid you to go.”
Bryce refused to back down. If pushed too far, he could be every bit as obstinate as both his older brothers combined. “This time, we intend to win.” He slammed his balled fist on a wooden table beside him, the vibration sending a tankard of ale to the floor. “Nothing you can do or say is going to change my mind.”
“You’re a thrawn man.” Connor threw his hands into the air and began to pace the length of Bryce’s chamber.
“It’s a family trait.” Connor stopped short, his expression less threatening than before. He drew in a slow, deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and gave his head a shake. “You always were a hard-headed fool. Mayhap, I should go with you and see that you stay out of trouble. Besides, if Robert hopes to drive de Valance out of Scotland, he’ll need every able-bodied man he can get.”
“One man willna make a difference. You have honored your oath to Robert many times over. Your place is here with Cailin and the babe.”
“That may be, but Alasdair is already with the Bruce on the Eilean Arainn. Duty dictates that I accompany you and do what I can. Cailin will be safe here.”
“Have you forgotten what happened the last time you left your wife and ran off to do battle? You thought she was securely sequestered at the priory, but it didn’t take long for the English to find her. Falsely accused of murdering a man you killed in her defense, she was tried, flogged, and slated for execution.”
“I dinna need any reminders.” Connor dropped his head forward and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.
“Mayhap you do.” Bryce hated to be blunt, but would use whatever he could to keep his brother from following. “She is still a fugitive and is wanted by the English. Will you risk her life again?”
“We are all fugitives according to Longshanks, yet you risk yours. If captured, they’ll hang you,” Connor pointed out.
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Bryce raised a brow and smiled. “Besides, they’ll have to catch me first.”
Con
nor exhaled sharply and shook his head. “When do you leave?”
“I plan to head for Loch Ryan at daybreak. If I make haste, I should arrive in just shy of a sennight.”
“I thought you were meeting Robert and Alasdair near Turnberry.”
“I did, but the Bruce’s brothers, Alex and Thomas, are preparing to cross into Galloway at Loch Ryan as part of a diversion to keep the English busy.”
“Why not wait for Robert and Alasdair?” Connor asked.
“My gut tells me the MacDougalls of Lorn will be lying in wait and I fancy the chance to face the traitorous bastards again. Dungal will rue the day he decided to side with the English and betray his Scottish roots.” When Connor did not offer a response, Bryce picked up a tunic and stuffed it into the sack then pulled the drawstring closed. “This is something I need to do, but would rather leave on good terms and with your blessing.”
“If I canna convince you to stay, I have no choice but to wish you God’s spede.” Connor yanked Bryce into a tight embrace. “Believe it or not, I understand. Be careful, little brother, and watch your back. If you run off and get yourself killed, I will never forgive you.”
“I’ll do my best to return in one piece. I plan to watch Andrew grow to be as fine a man as his da. It will take more than the English army to keep me from returning.”
The peddler coughed to clear his throat. He picked up the sapphire-encrusted comb and held it in Bryce’s direction.
Bryce took the piece and turned it over in his hand. The gems sparkled in the sunlight, reminding him of Fallon’s eyes.
Fallon. He cursed under his breath and tossed the comb onto the peddler’s cart. Why had she come into his life again? Now, of all times, when he needed to remain focused on the cause, needed his wits about him.
“I have no woman in my life.” Bryce tucked the wooden toy into his sporran, grasped the horse’s mane, and ascended into the saddle. “Where might I find The Skull and Bucket Inn?”
“The alehouse is a large stone building near the peer. You canna miss it.” The peddler pointed toward the waterfront then tipped his cap. “Good day, m’lord.”
“And to you, my good man.” Bryce pressed his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging him forward. As they rounded the corner, he spied the inn, just as the merchant described.
After entrusting his mount to an eager stable boy, and giving the lad a coin for feed and water, Bryce entered the establishment. He ducked his head before stepping through the low-hung doorframe, then narrowed his eyes in an attempt to acclimate to the dim light and haze of peat smoke. The stench of stale ale and roasting meat assaulted his nostrils as he scanned the premises, searching for his contact man.
In the corner by the rear exit sat a patron he recognized immediately. Bryce strode with purpose across the room, arriving at the table with his hand outstretched.
“Gordon, it’s good to see you.”
Gordon jumped to his feet and after they exchanged greetings, he ushered Bryce to the table. “What kept you? The missive that you would be joining the Bruce came well over a fortnight ago. When you dinna show up as planned, Alasdair feared the worst. He has accompanied me daily, but Robert had need of him today.”
“I had a run in with Dungal MacDougall at Loch Ryan.” Bryce pressed his hand to the wound on his chest. While on the mend, he still had not completely regained his strength.
“You were with Thomas and Alex when they landed? Where are they? Have they gone on to Carrick?” Gordon asked his questions in rapid succession then paused. “Are you ailing, man? You suddenly look pale.”
“I arrived too late and was unable to warn them of an ambush.” Bryce lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. The news of the massacre and execution of his brothers had obviously not yet reached Robert. “The MacDougalls were waiting for them when they arrived. They dinna stand a chance. Those that were not killed or left for dead were taken prisoner. Thomas and Alexander stood trial at Carlisle Castle and were hanged for treason.”
“How did you manage to escape in one piece?”
“Dungal thought me as good as dead or I’d not be here to bear witness. The last I heard, the MacDougalls were back in Scotland and plan to rejoin Aymer de Valance. I’d suggest we make haste and let Robert know. I’ve no doubt the spineless bastards are on their way as we speak.”
Gordon nodded and downed his ale in one gulp. He dragged his hand across his mouth and belched loudly. “Best we leave through the rear entrance.”
Chapter 5
“The Bruce has hidden his presence well. The entrance to his encampment is perilous at best.” Bryce shifted in the saddle and glanced around at steep rock cliffs, surrounded by dense forest and treacherous ravines.
“Aye. After the defeat at Methven and near annihilation of the Scottish army, the Bruce vowed he would never be caught off guard again. He abandoned many of the old ways of warfare in favor of the covert tactics used by William Wallace.” Gordon pointed to a path between two boulders. “From his vantage point, he can see the enemy coming from all directions.”
“It appears he has taken all the necessary precautions.” Bryce pressed his heels into the horse’s side.
“Halt!”
Both men reined in their horses and peered skyward when a deep voice echoed from a ledge above them.
“State your business or die where you are.”
“We’re here to see Robert the Bruce. He is expecting us,” Gordon shouted in response.
A tall warrior stepped out of the shadows. “Och, Gordon. I dinna recognize you, man. Go on ahead.”
Gordon nodded and nudged his mount forward. Bryce followed.
They traveled through a long, narrow passageway leading to a small clearing.
“Bryce! It’s high time you arrived.”
The familiar, deep rumble of Alasdair’s voice immediately caught Bryce’ attention. He dismounted, handed his horse over to a squire, then spun around to greet his eldest brother.
When together, they quarreled often, but as he lumbered toward him, Bryce realized just how much he’d missed their banter. But the sentiment changed when Alasdair entrapped him in his heavily muscled arms and hoisted him off the ground.
“Put me down. I canna breathe, you big ox.” Bryce gasped for air and stumbled when Alasdair released him, but quickly recovered his balance.
“I’m glad to see you, little brother.” Alasdair took a step back and frowned. “Mind, you do look thin and pale. What ails you?” His jovial tone shifted to one of concern.
“I’m fine. A wee bit tired from the journey is all.” Rather than explain about his encounter with the MacDougalls, Bryce decided to wait and do so when he met with Robert. The last thing he needed was his brother hovering over him like a mother hen.
“If what you claim is true, then tell me why you are so late in arriving. We were expecting you almost a fortnight ago. When you dinna arrive as planned, I was certain you met with foul play.”
“I’m sorry for any concern my delay has caused, but it could not be helped.
“Now there is a sight for sore eyes.”
Another familiar voice prompted Bryce to turn around. “Cameron! It is so good to see you.” He moved in the older man’s direction.
Cameron was Bryce’s cousin, Sir Simon Fraser’s, closest friend and the captain of the guard at Oliver Castle—the Fraser stronghold in the borderlands. He strode toward Bryce with his arm outstretched. “I’m relieved to see you, too. Alasdair has liked to have gone out of his mind with worry. I told him there was no reason to fash. You have always been a clever lad.” He thumped Bryce on the back and gave his forearm a shake.
Bryce returned the greeting. “How do you fare these days? I have not seen you since the English bastards executed Simon.” He lowered his head and crossed his chest.
“Aye. That was a dark day in Scottish history to be sure.” Cameron mimicked Bryce’s gesture of respect for his friend.
“I’m surprised to see you here. Where have yo
u been keeping yourself?” Bryce asked.
“Once I heard you and your brothers made it safely back to Fraser Castle, I stayed on Oliver Castle with Simon’s wife and daughters. Mary returned from the priory to be with her mam. It has been bandied about the keep she is to marry soon. One of the suitors her father chose for the lass before his untimely death offered a fine price for her hand. From what I’m told, she is quite taken with him. Joan is expecting a wee one in the spring, but visits her mam when she can.”
The news that his cousin’s widow and daughters were safe and doing well came as a welcomed relief. He owed so much to Simon and his family’s welfare crossed his mind often. “What brings you here?” Bryce asked Cameron.
“When I heard the Bruce was returning to Scotland, I arranged to meet him at Turnberry.” He patted the sword at his side. “I may be getting a little long in the tooth, but can still outride and outfight a young pup like you.”
Bryce laughed. “I’m sure you can, my friend, and I dinna plan to challenge you and find out.”
“I was just asking Bryce what took him so long to arrive. As usual, he is giving me a runaround,” Alasdair interjected.
Cameron frowned. “Aye. I was wondering what kept you myself.”
Bryce shrugged. “Sometimes things arise you canna foresee. Do either of you know where I can find Robert? I need to speak to him.” Bryce preferred to change the subject.
“I’m here.” Robert the Bruce approached them with all the pride and authority befitting the King of Scotland. While he was leaner than Bryce remembered, he still presented a formidable image.
“Robert, it’s good to see you.” Bryce nodded out of respect then offered his hand.
“I’m glad you arrived unscathed. Come with me.” Robert motioned for Bryce and Alasdair to follow him. They entered a cave lit by tallow candles and the glow of a cook-fire set amidst a pile of stones. “What tidings do you bring?”