She was so lost in thought as she headed back toward the castle that she almost bumped into Delilah, who was coming the other way.
“Hey Bethany,” she greeted her, smiling. “Have you joined the Guard, then?” She was half joking, but Bethany had mentioned her intention of finding some role within the castle’s military. Something on Bethany’s face must have given something away, because Delilah frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, waving a hand. “I saw something weird out my window last night when I couldn’t sleep… I came to the walls to tell the guard they should check it out, but they didn’t find anything, apparently.”
“It might have been a dream,” Delilah said. “We all had some pretty weird dreams when we got here.”
Bethany thought briefly of her bizarrely realistic dream of being swept downstream… but she shook that thought off, more interested in what she’d seen last night that was actually real. Maybe she’d follow up about strange dreams later — for now, a real army was of more interest. “It wasn’t a dream, what I saw. Lights, down by the village — signs of a sizable group, camping out.”
Delilah looked concerned. “Seriously? Some kind of attack on the castle, you think?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. I told your husband about it, but nobody went to check it out until dawn, and by that time the camp had disappeared.” She tried not to let resentment creep into her voice at that, but Delilah knew her a little better than most.
“They lost a few horses to injuries riding down that hill in the dark,” she explained. “Gavin probably didn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt, so he’d have waited til dawn. It wouldn’t have had anything to do with trusting you or not.”
“Yeah, well, either way — whoever was there isn’t there anymore. I should’ve just gone myself,” she added, half-joking, but Delilah looked horrified.
“You wouldn’t seriously do something that stupid, would you?”
Bethany blinked, stung by those strong words. “Stupid? I can handle a ride down a hill, Delilah —”
“Into, potentially, an enemy camp? By yourself? A woman, in medieval Scotland, unarmed? You don’t even know how to use a sword.”
“I’m the opposite of unarmed,” Bethany pointed out, gesturing to her hip, where her gun was still hidden away. “I’ve got the deadliest weapon in Scotland —”
“Which nobody would recognize or react to, so half the power of it’s useless,” Delilah pointed out, exasperated.
Bethany had to admit — she was right. If a person didn’t recognize the deadly power of a gun, they wouldn’t recognize the power of the person holding it. And she definitely didn’t have enough spare ammunition to take out a whole camp of potential enemies… nor was she interested in wasting a precious bullet on proving that her weapon was deadly.
“You need to teach me some sword fighting like, yesterday,” Bethany grumbled.
Delilah was a broadsword expert — one of her most nerdy hobbies, and one Bethany had always teased her for. Well, the tables had certainly turned there.
“Bethany, promise me you’re not going to go and investigate the camp,” Delilah said sternly. “Okay? I’ll talk to Gavin if you like, see if he’s happy to send more men to look into it or go back down himself, but —”
“They’d have to go at night,” Bethany said. “If it’s not already too late, that is.”
“Okay, whatever, but — you’re not going to go, right? Promise me?”
“Fine!” Bethany said irritably. “I won’t. But I was going to go down to the village this afternoon anyway. Is that allowed, or am I confined to my chambers?”
Delilah gave her a suspicious look. “I just don’t want you to do anything stupid, that’s all.”
Bethany sighed. “I just want to go into town for a drink. I won’t go anywhere unsafe, okay? But don’t blame me if the castle ends up getting besieged.”
“Fine. Have a nice ride.”
But she didn’t. She was in a bad mood the whole ride down — the hill wasn’t that steep, she thought irritably as her horse picked its careful way down the slope — and the mood wasn’t improved by the terrible sludgy ale served at the local tavern. The locals looked at her with thinly veiled suspicion, and nobody seemed interested in striking up a conversation with the newcomer. So she sat for half an hour or so, working on her beer, then headed back outside to get her horse, feeling like she’d wasted an afternoon. She hesitated before riding back up to the castle… then headed in the opposite direction. If there was really nothing to see in the campsite that she’d spotted from her window the night before, then there was no harm in her riding that way, was there?
Sure enough, when she cleared the buildings of town and found the area where she’d seen the torches, there was very little to be seen. It was a clear, flat area — a good place to camp, she observed, no trees to drop their branches on a tent roof, no thick vegetation underfoot to create a lump mattress. But the problem with it being a clear, flat area was the complete lack of any indication that anyone had been there. She rode her horse in a slow circle around the area, her eyes fixed on the ground, searching for any sign.
She found one clue that could have been something — some rocks that seemed to have been moved semi-recently, scuff marks in the dirt suggesting someone could have tried to cover up their passage. Still, it was pretty thin evidence, and she was feeling thoroughly disheartened as she steered her horse back up the hill toward the castle that stood outlined proudly against the sky. This was certainly a good spot to camp for anyone who was trying to keep an eye on the castle, she thought irritably… but how could she prove that she’d seen what she’d seen? Whoever they were, they’d disappeared at daybreak. If they were still hanging around — she gave the trees a suspicious look as she rode — they weren’t here. Not at the moment.
It occurred to her, as she rode, that the best way to catch them out would be to ride back down after nightfall. If this was their camp, that was when she was most likely to catch them out. Could she risk it? She wouldn’t be able to take a horse out, that was for sure — too much noise, too much suspicion. But if she slipped out of the gates before nightfall and stayed in the shadow of the walls, kept track of the guards’ patterns to find a gap in which she could slip away unseen… not the easiest job in the world, but she’d had training. She’d sneak down to the campsite… and use her secret weapon to prove to Eamon and Gavin once and for all that there was something to worry about. Her cell phone. Aware that the battery was limited, she’d switched it off on her first day here — obviously there was no service available in the fifteenth century. But the camera still worked. Would the men accuse her of witchcraft if she showed them photos on her phone? Surely not — the castle was at least vaguely aware of modern technology, what with half a dozen transplants from the twenty-first century living among them. She could do this. She could get some photos, prove herself… she’d just have to be careful not to get caught on her way down.
It felt good to have a plan — a resolution to do something other than just wandering the castle, getting in the way of the servants. She rode back through the gates with a newly cheerful demeanor, giving the guards on the wall a jaunty little wave as she headed for the stables. It didn’t take long to untack her horse and put it away with a half-pail of oats for its trouble, and then she was heading inside for a late lunch.
The afternoon passed slowly. She retired to her room after lunch, wanting to get a bit of rest before she headed out. There was a slight feeling of guilt troubling her as she waited for nightfall — she’d promised Delilah that she wouldn’t do anything like this. Well, she’d just have to make it worth the betrayal. As dusk was gathering in, she switched her phone back on, smiling in satisfaction to see that she still had some charge left. It was a little sad to think she was using up the last of the battery… but something told her this was the right move. There was no sense hoarding a resource that could be put to good use. Still, she spent a few minutes fl
icking through her photos for the last time, allowing herself a brief moment of sentimentality before she steeled herself and headed down the stairs.
She’d dressed carefully — she was wearing a skirt, but underneath it was the trousers from her uniform. She’d get changed once she was outside the walls — it would be easy enough to take the skirt off and stash it somewhere. She just couldn’t move in the damn thing, and she wanted to be able to move quietly and gracefully. It was still light when she headed out across the courtyard, and to her relief, the gates were still standing open. She waited for the guards to be looking the other way — there were only a few above the gate at the moment, so that was easy enough — then moved out through the gate, moving confidently in case she was spotted. If pressed, she’d say she was gathering some flowers for her room… a suitably feminine pursuit that shouldn’t raise too many questions. But nobody spotted her.
Her original intention had been to loiter in the shadow of the walls, but instead she headed down the path to where a stand of trees hid a bend in the road. It wouldn’t be too long a walk down to the village, but she didn’t want to risk running into anyone from the castle on the way down, so she waited until night had fallen properly then set off down the hill. Remembering the cold of the previous night, she’d brought a coat with a hood to keep her warm, and she pulled it over her ears now, not wanting to rely too much on the warmth generated by walking. Her phone was in her pocket, and her gun was at her hip — though she was going to do her best to avoid drawing it unless she absolutely had to.
She took a wide circle around the village, not wanting to risk being spotted by anyone… and sure enough, as she headed toward the campsite in the darkness, she could see points of light in the gloom. The camp had been set up again. A frown crossed her face as she lingered by a tree a few hundred yards from the camp, squinting in the darkness, trying to make out what was going on over there. They were camped so close to the village… surely someone would have noticed a group this size was camping out? But nobody in the tavern earlier that day had said a word about it — and she’d asked a few people, too. Were the villagers really that unobservant? Or were they keeping the presence of these men secret for some reason?
She crept a little closer, taking advantage of a few isolated stands of trees that stood between her and the campsite proper. From this closer angle, she could definitely make out what was going on — tents, torches, campfires, the whole nine yards. A few dozen men at least, she estimated… they had horses and equipment with them, too. Was this a vanguard for a larger army? Could the castle be under attack? She didn’t know enough about medieval combat, she realized with growing frustration… she wished fiercely that she’d paid more attention to her older sister’s nerdy interests. But why would you bother with swords when you could study guns?
A twig cracked behind her, shocking her out of her reflection. Her hand flew to her hip impulsively as she turned — only to find herself face to face with the razor-sharp tip of a longsword.
Chapter 9
Swallowing hard, Bethany raised her hands. She was still holding her cellphone in one — she’d managed to take several photos of the camp that she was looking forward to showing to Gavin — but she opened the palm of the other. It was pitch dark here among the trees, and her eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark, having been looking down at her phone screen… but she could make out two figures in the darkness, one holding the sword. The other one of them lifted a lantern, the light spilling onto her face and theirs… and her eyes widened a little as she got a proper look at her attackers for the first time.
Two men, tall and broad. They were wearing armor, but she could tell straight away that it wasn’t of the same quality as the armor worn by the MacClaran guards. The man with the sword had bright green eyes and curly brown hair, and though there was an amused smile dancing across his face, the sword he was holding at her throat was steady. The man with the lantern, though, drew her attention — there was a strange expression on his face as he stared at her in the light of the lantern, for all the world as though he recognized her. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? She’d certainly never seen him before — he was tall, with chin-length blond hair and piercing blue eyes that reminded her of the MacClaran men she’d met. And the hand he was holding the lantern in was shaking.
The man at his side glanced up at him, clearly aware that something was wrong. “Graham?”
“Galena, is it really you?” the blond man whispered, his eyes full of feeling that Bethany didn’t understand. “After all this time? I thought …”
“Get a grip, man,” the brown-haired man said sharply.
While the blond man had the same rolling Scottish accent she was steadily getting used to, his sword-wielding companion was different… he had a clipped, consonant-heavy accent that sounded a little like the accents of the German soldiers who’d been part of the war games she’d been participating in — god, that felt like a century ago. Had it really only been a week? She kept still, knowing full well how important it was not to escalate the situation when a deadly weapon was being pointed at her… but her mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to turn the blond man’s clear confusion to her advantage.
“You don’t recognize me? It’s only been two years,” the blond man said, taking a step toward her. “Adolf, put your sword down — this is my wife. This is Galena.”
The man he’d called Adolf didn’t lower his sword, though. Bethany narrowed her eyes, looking between them, not sure how much to say. The taller man, the one called Graham — he’d clearly mistaken her for someone she wasn’t. If she opened her mouth, he’d realize his mistake… and that would return her to the status of prisoner. So it was in her best interests not to speak. If this argument continued, perhaps she’d learn a little more about this group of armed men camped so close to Castle MacClaran …
“Don’t be daft, Graham. She’s spying on us. Why would your wife be spying on a band of mercenaries? Downright stupid thing to do. No offence, sweetheart,” Adolf added, giving Bethany a roguish wink, “but you have to admit, getting yourself caught by a gang of mercenaries, not exactly a smart move, is it?”
“Galena, why aren’t you saying anything?” Graham said faintly. The emotion on his face was real — even in the flickering lantern light, Bethany could tell that he seriously believed she was his wife. Why was that ringing a bell of familiarity, somehow? She frowned a little, trying to figure out where she’d heard this story before, but Adolf had cut Graham off.
“It’s not her, Graham,” he said gently. “It’s the light playing tricks on your eyes. God knows I know how much you must miss her, friend, but this isn’t her. Nobody survives drowning. Didn’t we search the banks of the river for days after that storm?”
“Galena,” Graham said again, and this time the pain in his voice actually tugged at Bethany’s heartstrings a little. “Say something. Please.”
It would have made good tactical sense to keep misleading this man… to let him believe she was this Galena woman, whoever that was. But somehow, her conscience was flaring up, refusing to let her mislead him. So she shook her head. “I don’t know who that is.”
But that didn’t seem to work. The minute she spoke, Graham’s eyes widened. “It’s her. I’d recognize her voice anywhere.”
Adolf didn’t look especially convinced — but he did lower his sword. An opportunity to escape, perhaps? But no — Graham had rushed forwards and enveloped her in an embrace. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, though she reflexively tensed up at the contact. He was warm, at least, his body protecting hers from the chill of the night for a moment, and he had a certain musky smell that wasn’t exactly unappealing. But she didn’t hug him back — and he pulled back from her after a moment, his hands on her shoulders as he stared into her face.
“Galena — you really don’t recognize me? It’s Graham. It’s your husband.” He looked over his shoulder at Adolf, who seemed rather uneasy now that things were a bit more complica
ted than pointing a weapon at someone. “Could she have hit her head?”
“Ja, perhaps? I’m no man of medicine. Did your wife have a sister?” he joked, but she could tell he was troubled. “What are we going to do with her?”
“We can’t just let her keep wandering the moors,” Graham said, his hands still on her shoulders. She would have been irritated at being spoken about like she wasn’t there if it wasn’t for the fact that she could probably use the confusion to her advantage. “She’s clearly addled somehow… she’s lost her memory. But it’s her. Adolf, I’d swear it on anything. It’s Galena.”
“I trust you, friend,” Adolf said simply, shrugging. “But what’s your plan? Bring her back to camp with us? We’re besieging a castle, not going for a ride in the countryside. Camp’s no place for a woman with no memory — you should know that. What’s Matthew going to say?”
“I don’t care,” Graham said, his hands warm on Bethany’s shoulders.
She felt an odd pang of guilt to be misleading him like this and cleared her throat. It was strange… he’d said his wife had been swept away down a river. Hadn’t she just had a dream about that? She wished she’d asked Delilah a little more about what she’d meant when she’d said that the other time-travelling women had had strange dreams when they’d arrived… could this be some kind of magical prophecy? Was she having prophetic dreams? It would be very useful to be able to predict the future… maybe she could learn how to interpret her dreams more accurately, get advanced warning of things like this. Maybe this was how she could continue to work as an intelligence officer… through witchcraft, rather than technology?
But first things first — she had to get out of this bind she was in. So she took a deep breath. “I had a dream the other night about being swept downstream in a storm,” she said. It wasn’t a lie — but the way Graham’s face lit up made her feel guilty. She definitely wasn’t his wife, and he was going to be crushed when he worked that out — but then again, he and his friend had a sword pointed at her. It was her right to use what she could to get out of that situation.
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 7