“Aye, and me as well, lass, Mary and I are old hands at preparing for sieges,” Margaret replied with a nod.
“I’m here to help, however I can,” she promised. “What can I do?”
“There’s plenty to keep a body busy,” Margaret put in. “I’ll get you started.”
It was indeed a busy evening, in the end. The castle was bustling with unaccustomed energy — usually, the after-dinner ritual was a slow winding down, but tonight there was nothing but activity. Servants bustled back and forth, carrying bedding and supplies this way and that… it seemed that every spare room in the castle was to be inhabited, and extra shelters were being erected in the courtyard too in case the castle wasn’t enough. Bethany helped where she could, mostly with carrying things this way and that, and even spent an hour or so helping Delilah and Fiona erect lean-tos and tents in the courtyard. It felt good to be working with her hands, to be contributing to the effort to keep people safe, and soon frightened-looking villagers began pouring into the Keep. There were more of them than she’d expected — men and women, frightened-looking children clutching a favorite toy or simply a blanket or pillow for comfort. She tried to smile at the children she saw, to encourage them… but it was a tall order, to feel happy when you’d been ripped away from your home and everything you knew to spend the night in a castle.
Well, it could be a night. Or it could be a lot longer.
“I hope this is all for nothing,” Fiona said under her breath as they watched yet another worried-looking family walk up the steps into the castle, a guard at their side, presumably showing them to the quarters that had been assigned to them. “I hope those mercenaries turn tail and flee and we never see them again.”
“That’d be nice,” Bethany agreed.
But thinking back to the ugly look on Matthew’s face, she didn’t think there was much hope of such a peaceful resolution. And from the expressions on the faces of the villagers, neither did they.
Chapter 22
It must have been midnight by the time all the villagers had been brought within the castle walls. Bethany was standing on the steps with her hands on her hips, watching as the guards called back and forth, finally closing the gate. It had been a mammoth operation, but finally, everyone was where they needed to be … safe and sound inside the walls. And not just the villagers — they’d brought great arms’ full of food, all the supplies they could carry. Several people had just been on food duty — dragging everything they could from the village up to the castle kitchens.
That was tactical in two ways, of course. It was important to feed everyone, that was one thing — Margaret had been sitting in the castle kitchens with a few of the senior kitchen staff, taking careful inventory of all of their stock so they knew exactly what they had. By morning, she said, they’d have a detailed plan for how to ration the food — and they’d know exactly how long a siege they could maintain. But taking the food inside the castle walls would harm the attackers, too. Armies laying sieges often relied on surrounding villages to provide them with sustenance — getting in first and getting as much of the food out of the village as possible would strike a considerable blow to whatever army Matthew was bringing against the castle.
They were in a good position, she knew that much, and she heaved a contented sigh as she turned and started heading for her own quarters. The castle felt oddly noisy — the villagers, new to the place, were still awake, and she could hear far more voices than she was used to hearing at this time of night. Funny, how she was so used to the place after only a week spent here… it felt nice, honestly, to feel so at home in such a strange place. And she was glad to have the villagers safe and sound inside the walls.
But as much as she was happy with the efforts made by the clan and the villagers, as she climbed the steps she felt a familiar worry beginning to creep into her chest. She was worried about Graham… she had to admit that, at least to herself. Was he out there somewhere, riding with Matthew, full of murderous plans about what he was going to do with the castle full of witches? Or was he torn, not sure whether he should honor his commitment to Matthew, or come and join her in the castle? Was that even an option, at this stage? Would Donal allow it? Maybe she could vouch for him… maybe Gavin would help. He’d certainly seemed distressed that there was an orphaned MacClaran man on the other side of this battle.
She shook her head, dismissing those thoughts firmly. He made his choice, she told herself for what felt like the thousandth time. He’d chosen to stay with the attackers, and that meant he was her enemy… no matter what she might feel about that. Still, she was biting at her fingernails by the time she was settling herself down into bed, a classic sign that she was anxious about something.
But that anxiety gave way to new anxiety when she peered through her window. Down below her was the courtyard, busy with villagers still making adjustments to their tents — priority had been given to the infirm and elderly when it came to distributing the spare rooms inside the castle, so the majority of people camping outside were young men who could handle the discomfort of a few nights in a tent. As a result, there was a bit of carousing going on… she grinned as she realized a few of them were holding bottles. Well, it was important to keep up morale.
But her grin faded as she looked up, over the walls, down toward the village where she’d originally spotted the torches that indicated the presence of the mercenary camp. Horror settled into her chest as she saw what was happening down there — a few buildings on the south edge of the village, closest to the camp, were ablaze, the flames climbing into the thatched roof. That was Matthew’s work — she was sure of it. Is Graham there with him? she wondered, watching the fire claim those houses. At least they knew all the villagers were safe, she reassured herself, biting her lip. They could burn the whole village down if they wanted — buildings could be rebuilt, so long as the human beings were all safe. And they were — they’d all either evacuated or come up here to the castle to stay.
Still, it felt awful, watching the village be attacked while completely powerless to stop it. She watched for a long time, wondering how many of the villagers were also peering through their castle windows, watching their home be attacked. She was a little concerned the mercenaries were going to burn every building down… but they restricted themselves to a half-dozen or so. By the time the fires started burning down, Bethany had seen enough. She lay down in the bed, frowning as she pulled the covers around her shoulders. She could smell smoke, and though it was probably from the campfires in the courtyard, she fancied it came all the way from the village.
When sleep came, it was restless… her dreams were mostly stress dreams, the kind of irritating experience where you had a thousand tasks to do and no time to do them in. She woke a few times in the night, exasperated by the dreams, but grateful at least that they weren’t as harrowing as the ones she’d had about drowning in a river. When she woke up, it was dawn, and she knew she wasn’t going to get any more sleep.
It felt strange, heading downstairs. There were twice as many people as she was used to in the castle… and the rationing had already begun, it seemed, a pre-emptive measure. She nodded her approval as a timid servant doled her out a pre-portioned serving of porridge, glad to support the effort. If it meant keeping everyone inside the walls alive, she’d happily eat a half ration for weeks on end. She’d had worse. The food at basic training had been basically inedible — a small serving of good food was a vast improvement on that.
She sat with Delilah, who didn’t look like she’d gotten much sleep, either.
“Emily’s very excited about all of the new people,” her sister explained, rolling her eyes. “Kept wanting to go visiting instead of going to sleep. That, and Gavin being out until three in the morning getting all the villagers settled… it’s going to be a long siege.”
“We’re technically not under siege yet,” Bethany pointed out.
But Delilah shook her head. “You haven’t heard? The mercenaries moved their cam
p in the night. They’re within sight of the castle gate, now. Calculated move,” she added. “Trying to scare us. But it won’t work.”
“How many men?”
“More than you reported,” Delilah said, sighing. “It seems Matthew wasn’t bluffing about having more men on the way. It doesn’t look great.”
“Have they talked? Have any demands been issued?” She leaned forward, frustrated to have missed whatever had happened overnight.
Delilah shook her head. “No communication yet. Just the camp, set up close to the walls. Donal’s intending to ride out to parlay, later.”
“I want to be there,” Bethany said immediately.
“Better ask him.” Delilah shrugged.
Bethany felt a brief surge of gratitude that her sister hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. She may have scared the hell out of her the day before — but she’d also earned her respect.
“I don’t know who he intends to take with him, but it may as well be you.”
Donal looked exhausted when she found him — she’d be surprised if the man had slept at all the previous night, and he was pushing his porridge listlessly around his bowl, clearly in a stupor. She hated to disturb him from even that pale facsimile of rest, but she gently cleared her throat until he blinked up at her, bleary-eyed.
“How are you doing, Laird Donal?”
“Fine,” he rasped, looking anything but. “Stayed up speaking with my advisors. Colin saw out a siege or two in his day.”
“The evacuation was a success?”
“A resounding success,” he confirmed, a wan smile on his face.
“I heard the mercenaries have camped out close to the castle.”
“Aye, that they have. I’ll be riding out to discuss their problem with them after breakfast. Not sure if you noticed, but they set a number of buildings in the village aflame.”
“I did see that,” she said softly. “But the villagers themselves are safe. Buildings, we can restore.”
“Aye, you’re right,” he said. “Provided we get rid of these men before we run out of food.”
“Margaret’s got it under control. I trust her rationing.”
“Aye, she’s an asset and no mistake,” Donal smiled.
“Laird Donal — I was wondering who you’re taking with you to parlay with Matthew and his men.”
“Oh, aye? Were you? Or were you wondering, specifically, whether that number could include you?”
“Yes,” she said, grinning sheepishly. Had she been so transparent? But he was smiling tiredly.
“Aye, Bethany, I’d like to have you there. I’ve learned my lesson over the last few years — you time travelers are good to have around. You see things we miss. Besides, you broke out of his camp single-handed with one of his men held hostage. I’m dying to see the look on his face when he sees you here, safe and sound.”
She grinned. “I have to admit, that’s some of my motivation, too.”
“Well, meet us in the courtyard once I’ve finished my porridge,” he instructed her.
She nodded agreement, hastening away to leave him to his breakfast. She headed for the courtyard, where she found a group of men waiting — several of them armed to the teeth, including Gavin and Eamon.
“Is this the parlay party?”
“Aye. You’re joining us?” Eamon quirked an eyebrow.
She nodded as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Donal joined them not long after, looking a little less exhausted than he had (a splash of water on the face, perhaps? It always worked wonders for Bethany), and they set out toward the mercenary camp. It was down the road a little way, where the forest gave way, and Bethany lengthened her stride to keep pace with the men.
But they were still within sight of the wall when Donal held his hand up. There stood a familiar figure — Matthew, a handful of his men behind him, a smug and malicious grin on his face.
Donal straightened. “Matthew Willows, I presume?”
“So you’ve heard of me,” the knight replied. “That’s good. Saves time. You already know why I’m here?”
“Seems to me you’ve made a whole lot of trouble for people who’ve never wronged anyone,” Donal said levelly. “What is it that you want?”
“Oh, you think I’m bringing you a list of demands?” Matthew uttered an ugly bark of laughter — it was mirrored by his men.
Bethany was trying not to crane her neck to see who they were — she thought she recognized Sven among them, but she couldn’t see Graham, not yet…
“No, that would be too easy. That would suggest there’s a way to redeem yourself from the evil you’ve done, Donal MacClaran, and there is no way. You’ll have to take that up with the devil himself when you meet him.”
“Get to the point, Willows,” Donal snapped, and Bethany could sense his temper flaring. “Before I have my men fire on you.”
“I see you’ve brought one of the witches along with you,” Matthew said, his hard eyes falling on Bethany. He gestured at her with the point of his sword. “Slippery little bitch, that one. Caused quite a stir in camp. Isn’t that right, Graham?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Sure enough, there was Graham, his blue eyes downcast — he’d been standing at the back of the group, and he reluctantly came to the front as Matthew beckoned him forward.
“She disguised herself as his lost wife,” Matthew snarled. “Nearly pulled the wool over his eyes completely… but he came to his senses, didn’t you, Graham? You know who the enemy is.”
“That’s right,” Graham agreed dully.
“And the best part is, Donal MacClaran — he’s kin of yours. Did you know that? The son of Kenneth MacClaran.”
Donal took a breath, clearly trying to keep himself calm. “Is that so. Well, I’d advise any MacClaran that there’s always a home for them within our walls — no matter what burden of guilt they’re carrying.”
Graham looked surprised at that — he lifted his face, a light coming into his blue eyes for the first time, and for a second Bethany let herself hope that he might cross the space between them, come to join them… she almost cried out, almost called his name… but then he was looking down again, and Matthew was speaking, an ugly tone in his voice.
“As if he’d come to a nest of filth like this castle. No, Donal MacClaran, I don’t have any demands for you. There’s nothing you can do to stop our assault, to buy any more time to wallow in your sins, to perform whatever hideous rituals you perform with that coven who’s taken control of your mind and your senses. We’re coming for you, MacClaran. And we won’t stop until every last witch is burned, and every last stone of that cursed place is torn down and scattered to the four corners of this land. That’s an oath.”
“Archers!” Donal bellowed — she could see his fists clenched in rage. Above them, on the walls, she could hear archers readying their bows. “Willows, your brother came against us for the same despicable purpose — he was a brute and a coward, and you’ll meet the same fate he did! Fire!”
The mercenaries fled in a hail of arrows. Bethany retreated with the rest of the MacClaran men, torn between keeping herself safe.. and a desperate need to stare after the mercenaries, to see if Graham was safe. Had an arrow struck him, or had he escaped unscathed? Before long they were back inside the walls, and she found to her surprise that she was breathing hard, adrenaline coursing through her body. Donal looked furious — he was pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath to himself — and to Eamon, who was standing patiently at his side, clearly trying to confer with him.
“Well,” Donal said finally, turning back to the group with a grim look on his face. “That solves that mystery. There’s nothing we can give to them that will stop their assault. The only solution is to let them break the back of their forces on our walls, then send our men out to mop up the remainder.” He uttered a mirthless little laugh. “At least it’s simple.” But he didn’t look especially thrilled at the prospect. Bethany hung back, peering through the gates down
the road, now littered with arrows… she could see a few guards heading down to pick them up. Smart, she thought. Impossible to know how long this siege would last… it was important to conserve their supplies wherever possible.
She stayed at the gate for a long time, staring out along the road, gnawing on her lip. It had been so good to see Graham, alive and well… but how long would he stay that way? Was it possible that he might change sides before an arrow found him?
Chapter 23
After that, the siege began in earnest. Matthew’s forces came closer to the castle, fanning out and encircling the Keep, ensuring no escape. Bethany stayed on the walls for as long as she could, then turned and headed back inside, realizing she would only get in the way. She couldn’t use a bow — and the weapon she was trained with only had five shots left in it. She needed to make them count.
The day wore on, and she found ways to keep busy inside, ruing her own military uselessness when it came to the weapons of this time period. But Mary had a curious way of keeping up morale by keeping everyone utterly busy — there was work to be done in organizing the rationing, and once that was under control, there was twice as much cooking as usual to be done… which meant twice as many dishes, which meant twice as much fetching and carrying water… thank God for Fiona’s water catchment system, so they didn’t have to leave the castle garden. Before Bethany knew it, it was getting close to nightfall. She moved through the crowded dining hall in a daze, searching for someone who could tell her what had gone on out there.
She found it in the form of an exhausted Gavin, slumped over his dinner, clearly fighting to stop from falling asleep right then and there. Delilah was at his side, smiling a little as she tried to jolly him awake, but Bethany could see the worry clear as day on her sister’s face.
“He hasn’t slept in days,” Delilah explained with an exasperated expression on her face. “Too worried about all this siege stuff… it’s impossible to get him to understand that he’s no help to anyone when he’s this exhausted.”
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 18