by Maren Smith
Mallory clutched Varden's arm, whispering, “What's going on? What do they want?"
"Retribution,” Varden said, low and even. “Looks like I have finally found my reivers. Don't be afraid, mon âme. They have no reason to keep you."
Craning her head back, she looked up at his chiseled face and a cold thread of panic wove through her. He looked calm, almost resigned, and that scared her even more. “What about you?"
Separating his horse from the rest, a dark-haired, hook-nosed Scot approached them. “Yer t’ accompany us, or we're t’ kill ye where ye stand."
"I'll go,” Varden said, “if you'll agree to allow the woman safe passage back to Cadhla."
"No!” Mallory cried.
Hooknose gave her a disdainful once-over look before returning his attention to the real prize: Varden. “I've nae orders t’ hold her. Yer lass can go."
In the distance, Cadhla raised its portcullis and the bridge slowly lowered over the moat. Riders charged across the bridge, raising an instant cloud of dust as they galloped onto the dirt road. They were coming to help, but even Mallory could tell they were too far away to do any good.
"Don't ask me to leave you here.” Mallory twisted in the saddle to better see him. “Varden, I can't!"
Hook-nose tipped his head to one side, eyeing Varden with a cold, emotionless detachment. Other's were readying their guns, taking aim at both Varden and Mallory. “D’ ye come peaceably, mon, yea or nay?"
"I'll come.” Varden's arm tightened around her, a silent warning to obey. “Do you see Kenton there, coming out to meet us?"
Mallory shook her head. “I won't leave you here."
"Do as I tell you,” Varden said, soft and low against her ear. “Go to him. He'll make sure you get safely back to Cadhla."
"No.” She blinked back tears, but he still blurred before her eyes.
As his rough hands caressed her face, he said, “I love you, ma petite folle."
"Don't!” Mallory said sharply. “Don't you dare say goodbye to me!"
Though she clung to his arm with both hands, he disengaged her easily enough and swung down out of the saddle. As he handed her the reins, he lightly squeezed her hand. Though she knew he meant to reassure her, it felt more like a touch of farewell. “Don't worry. We will finish this conversation later."
Her chest tightened. She could not breathe. “Don't go with them, Varden. Please don't go."
As soon as he was on the ground, Hook-nose looked back at his men. Though no words were exchanged, a path was cleared between them wide enough for her to ride past. “Like I said, yer lassie's free t’ go."
"Not without Varden!” Mallory repeated, sounding stronger this time though she trembled visibly.
Varden didn't give her the chance to disobey. He slapped his horse's rump, sending the animal into a gallop past the Scots and straight for Cadhla. Clinging tightly to the saddle, Mallory looked back over her shoulder in time to see the Scots close around Varden. Her tears obscured the sight of Hook-nose striking the butt of his gun on the back of Varden's skull, knocking him to the ground. By the time Kenton and his men had reached her, Varden was thrown over the back of another horse and the Scots were fleeing with him back the other way.
"You have to do something!” Mallory cried to Kenton.
But instead of pursuing the Scots, Kenton grabbed the reins of her horse and vaulted from his saddle onto the back of hers. His arms came around her, grabbing the reins, and the party turned as one and galloped as fast as possible back to Cadhla.
"What are you doing?” Mallory looked back over her shoulder, but Varden and the Scots had already disappeared into the woods. “We have to go back! We can't leave him!"
"This is neither the time nor the place for hysterics,” Kenton said. The minute they were across the moat and through the gatehouse, the bridge was drawn and the portcullis lowered. Kenton dismounted near the stable and held out his hands to help her down.
"How could you leave him like that? I thought you were friends!"
"He is my greatest friend,” Kenton told her as he set her on the ground. He grabbed her shoulders. “Trust that I would never have abandoned him by choice."
"Then why—"
She was interrupted by a warning shouted down from the ramparts. It echoed through the bailey and stirred the men around them into a flurry of activity that was strongly reminiscent of the drills Mallory had seen on the Training Field. As she looked around, she realized that there were literally hundreds of men gathered in the bailey and stationed along the walls. Every one was dressed in full body armor. Archers readied their bows at every loophole along the parapet. At the top of the wall, soldiers loaded their guns.
She turned back to Kenton. “What's going on?"
"We have a serious problem.” The manservant led her up the stairs to the top of the ramparts.
Looking through a loophole overlooking the valley west of where Varden had been taken, Mallory saw an army marching toward them. The number was equal to, if not greater than, Varden's entire Training Camp. Armor and weapons glittered in the sunlight as the sound of stamping horses and shouting men grew louder, becoming a low and continuous roar of noise.
"Are we being invaded?” she finally asked.
"Convenient, is it not?” Kenton clasped his hands behind his back, stoically surveying what would surely be the demise of Cadhla. “I think we have more men, but those are experienced soldiers while the majority of our Camp consists of green, inexperienced boys just learning the craft of war."
"Maybe they only want to stop for a drink of water before moving on.” But Mallory could not even delude herself with that excuse.
"Look at their colors."
Mallory shrugged. The army was not near enough for her to make out the uniforms. There were no distinguishing banners either. “What am I looking for?"
"Orange and gold are the Dowager's family colors.” Kenton looked at Mallory meaningfully. “At least we know where Godfrey is now."
"How long can we hold them off?"
"With Varden we might have a chance of surviving the siege. Without him we haven't got a prayer."
* * * *
By the end of the first evening, the score against Cadhla showed at a glance. Sections of the parapet along the south wall had been hit the hardest of all, mostly since the terrain to the south was best suited for the three cannons Godfrey had brought. Sometimes the balls fell short of the wall, but mostly they didn't, and then the newly broken stones and bits of lead would rain down into the crowded courtyard amid the screams and curses of those hit by the debris. There was, Mallory decided, no such thing as “the thrill of battle.” It was simply horrific.
The smoke-filled air burned her lungs and eyes. Above the constant hiss of arrows and bullets being exchanged came the high-pitched whistle of yet another lead ball shot from the cannons. And as if the daylight hours weren't bad enough, the night was worse.
The multitude of enemy campfires spread out around Cadhla like a swarm of fireflies that covered the ground. The cannons belched forth a half-hearted volley of smoke and ammunition, just enough to keep the castle residents exhausted and unable to sleep, while, during the lull between shots, all along the base outer wall, a muted scraping could be heard.
"Diggers,” Kenton said. “They're coming in at three different positions, tunneling under the outer curtain. The holes are too far out; we can't even route them. They will either collapse the walls or dig up through the berm. It's only a matter of days now."
Unfortunately, Kenton was right. Four days after Varden was taken, the outer curtain wall fell to the diggers’ tunnels. There was still the inner curtain and moat that kept the castle and its inhabitants safely ensconced, but neither were expected to hold up indefinitely. And if they got through...
Mallory stood at her bedroom window, biting her fingernails and watching as the south wall crumbled a little more as another cannon struck. This wasn't how she'd wanted to get out of her spanking.
Behind her, Nanna and Grete were talking softly together and Devin was sleeping in his cradle by the fire. There had been no time to get him out and safely away. And there was simply no knowing where Varden was, or what was happening to him. Was he even still alive?
Outside, soldiers slept all along the walls, wherever there was room and a little bit of cover. Those that weren't asleep were helpless to do anything but mark the progress of the diggers. Everyone was tired, exhausted from lack of sleep, and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. If they hadn't been, there was simply no way that the Dowager Duchess, her pale gown concealed by a hooded black cloak, could have she stepped through Cadhla's broken front doors and crossed the debris-cluttered bailey unnoticed. She stayed in the shadows, moving silently around the sleeping and the dead, slowly making her way to the front gatehouse.
The guard was sleeping sitting up next to the wall. Abigail stepped around him, reaching for the gate lever without hesitation. With every ounce of strength in her aged body, she heaved the lever up, setting the gears that raised the portcullis into motion.
She clasped her hands in front of her mouth as if in prayer while roaring shouts went up on both sides of the wall. Her eyes teared. “Welcome home, my son."
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Chapter Eighteen
Mallory hardly knew what happened. From her window she watched as the courtyard suddenly flooded with Godfrey's soldiers. The clashing ring of sword on sword was deafening as Michadle men scrambled to intercept.
"Oh no,” Mallory breathed.
"Hurry!” Grete threw shoes at her and, as Mallory put the ill-fitting slippers on, she and Nanna swaddled Devin in a blanket. With one shawl, they quickly made a sling to carry him and used another to wrap around Mallory's waist, binding him tightly to her stomach so that her hands could be free.
"What are we going to do?” Mallory asked, cradling Devin close.
"We are going to hide,” Grete told her. “John thinks he's found a safe place for us. But you have to run. They might not hurt us if we're found, but Godfrey will kill you and the wee master."
"Don't worry about us old women,” Nanna said. “We haven't lived this long without learning a thing or two about soldiers."
The bedroom door flew open and Kenton burst in. As he had been the night he'd saved her life, he was furious.
"Time to go.” He grabbed her arm and ran with her from the room. There was panic everywhere: soldiers, tousled and sleepy-eyed, grabbed up their arms and ran down stairs to fight; servants ran room to room hiding anything of value even as they looked for places to hide themselves, knowing that they would be found, regardless.
Kenton pushed Mallory down the hall and into the servants’ wing. For the first time, she found herself in the tiny room that was his personal bedchamber. His Egyptian heritage was obvious. Artifacts and artwork were scattered everywhere. For such an impeccable person, his room was terribly cluttered.
After rummaging through a large trunk, he tossed a cloak at her. “Put that on."
Though it wasn't necessary, she held Devin with both arms, surprised that he didn't seem upset by their mad-dash run through the halls and grateful that he wasn't crying. “Where are we going?"
"Nowhere unless we can get out of the courtyard.” Kenton paused to lift a corner of the curtain and looked out the only tiny window in the room. He shook his head. “Godfrey's men are everywhere. There's a passage under the kitchens that we can use to get outside, but then we'll need a distraction or a miracle to make it past them all."
"Isn't there a secret escape route or something for situations like this?” Mallory asked. “What kind of castle doesn't have secret passages?"
"There are several,” Kenton snapped. “Varden knows them. Claire knows them. You and I do not know any of them. Thankfully, Godfrey doesn't know them, either, or he'd have come in that way."
For once, Mallory wished she was Claire just long enough to get them to safety. “What about the dowager?"
Kenton swore. “Wait here. I'll fetch her."
Mallory stepped back in surprise when he drew a very unservant-like sword from the same trunk that he had taken her cloak. He strapped it around his waist and disappeared back down the hall.
A low rumble shook the floor. It pervaded the walls and rattled the poured glass pane in the window nook, steadily growing in volume until it was a deafening roar. It was shouting; the masculine bellow of hundreds of men as they spilled into the Great Hall, finally gaining access to Cadhla itself. A few of Varden's men still fought to defend the castle. Others capitulated. Mallory heard the bellows of the attackers, the screams of the wounded and dying; she felt the echoes of the fighting vibrating through the stones beneath her slippered feet.
Charging back into the room, Kenton grabbed her arm and yanked her after him as he ran back out again.
"What's happening?” She tripped on the hem of her nightgown and nearly fell.
"Don't talk!” Kenton shouted. “Run!"
With one arm clutching Devin, Mallory barely kept up. Her shorter legs pumped hard to keep pace with him. Kenton was not about to let go of her arm, but he was not going to stop either. If she lost her footing, she would likely find herself being dragged along the ground.
And then she heard shouting directly behind them. Godfrey was searching the floor for her and rapidly closing the distance between them. Kenton pulled her down a flight of servants’ steps to the kitchen where they were enveloped by a huddled mass of servants waiting for the inevitable. Women hung onto their children; male servants formed a protective barrier around their families, holding unfamiliar swords in hands unaccustomed to wielding the heavy steel. The same look was on all of their faces. This was the end.
"Run!” Kenton bellowed, charging into their midst and dragging Mallory behind him. “He's right behind us!"
Pandemonium erupted everywhere as Godfrey and his men broke into the room. Servants scattered, screaming, blocking Godfrey's pursuit as much as they did Mallory's and Kenton's escape.
Kenton threw over a table, dashing food and dishes across the floor. One soldier stumbled on a potato, knocking himself and two others down. Sliding in a pool of lard, two serving maids collided with Godfrey and all three went down in a stack of flailing limbs. He came back up, infuriated and partially coated in semi-liquid fat. He slid twice trying to regain his feet. Raising his sword against the two women, Godfrey slipped again and nearly fell on his own blade.
From the other side of the room, Mallory felt a tap at her shoulder. Caroline pointed to a small hatch in the floor near the fireplace. “Looking for that, I believe."
"That's it,” Kenton said, pushing Mallory towards it at the same time. As he bent to grab the small door, he looked up at her. “Hold your breath."
"What is it?” Mallory gathered her skirts even as Kenton raised the hatch. As she squatted at the edge, about to step down into it, the stench hit her. Rotten food and rancid grease drippings covered the chute as far down as Mallory could see.
She grimaced with revulsion. “Ugh!"
Caroline smiled, and not all that pleasantly either. “'Tisn't as nasty as the garderobe. Of course, it's not much better either."
Kenton planted a hand on top of Mallory's head and shoved her down the filthy chute. Mallory didn't scream. Her body as stiff and straight as a wooden plank, shielding Devin from as much of the filth as possible, she held her breath and prayed she wouldn't get stuck halfway down.
There was no trough in the pigpen, just a knee-deep pile of slops that not only broke her fall but sent her sliding through the mud and waste and into a huddle of resident pigs, who promptly scattered, squealing. She tried to stand, but her foot slipped out from under her and she fell to one knee just as Kenton hit the bottom of the chute and slid over next to her.
"The situation hasn't improved,” she told him.
Even the fierce driving rain did nothing to help the smell. It was cold and ineffectual and, rather than wash them, only cau
sed the filth to run off in streaks. Mallory gagged every time her aching lungs forced her to take a breath. Somehow she managed not to lose her dinner.
"Up!” Kenton said. “That little disappearing trick will not fool them for long."
Mallory staggered to her feet. Her slippers had fallen off somewhere in the chute. She did not even want to think about what was squishing between her toes and dripping from her hair.
Covered in mud, slop and pig by-products, they looked little better than the other peasants that were being rounded up in the courtyard. They ran, half crouching in the opposite direction. Kenton helped her over the garden wall and they ran through the shrubs and late blooming flowers to the garden's entrance and the bailey beyond. The servants and captured soldiers were thick here. The confusion of so many moving bodies, coupled with the hard, driving rain, made sneaking to the stables easy. The stable master was waiting for them in the furthest corner with two saddled horses.
"Bloody ‘ell, ye stink!” Tim said.
Mallory didn't wait to be told, but went straight to Varden's horse. The animal tossed his head and stepped back when she drew near.
"'Ee don't like pigs,” Tim said.
"I'm not that fond of them either,” Mallory said as Tim helped her up into the saddle and Kenton mounted the mare.
She tried to wipe the mud from the blankets around Devin's face, while he made soft fussy sounds back at her. Her heart pounded in her throat. She was terrified that the next sound would be the soldiers charging into the stables and they would then be caught. Trembling from cold as well as fear, she whispered words of comfort to her wide-eyed baby and clutched the horse's reins in her hands.
"Look at the gate,” Kenton told her as he moved his mare closer to her. “Focus on it. When I tell you, ride as if your life depends on it. And since it does, you should have no trouble relating."
From the courtyard outside, Godfrey could be heard shouting oaths and orders.