Daughters of the Dagger 04 - Amethyst (19 page)

Chapter 20

Marcus struggled against his attacker, being choked and also teetering over the edge of the wall. He was about to be pushed to his death at any moment. If he could just get better leverage, he may be able to unclasp this brute’s hands from his throat long enough to get a chance to stand upright. But God’s eyes, this man was big and strong. He’d never felt anything like it.

But having his
windpipe crushed under the hands of a barbaric Scot was not the way he was going to die. Besides, he knew as soon as the man killed him, he’d be after Amethyst, and he couldn’t have that. He had to save her even if it meant losing his life in the process.

He fought against his survival instincts and removed his own hands from around the man’s at this throat and gripped the Scot
’s throat as well. He’d managed to get back to an upright position, when all of a sudden, the man’s eyes bugged out and his grip loosened on Marcus’s throat, and he slumped over against him.

Marcus looked up behind him and saw Amethyst standing there with a bloodied sword in her hands. His sword, that is.

“Nay!” he shouted, not wanting his wife to have ever had to kill a man. He knew it would scar her emotionally, and although she was not the normal frail lady, he didn’t want her having to kill to save him.

Then the man fell to the ground, and Marcus noticed the
arrow sticking out of his back, just behind his heart.

“Amethyst,” he said, dropping the man and gathering her up in his arms. She lowered the sword and
laid her head against him and wept softly.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I almost cost you your life.”

To his relief, he realized the sword was bloodied from his own battle and she had not stabbed the man after all. Marcus scanned the surroundings, his eyes settling on a lone archer standing high atop the tower at the corner of the battlements of the main castle, and fully exposed in order to shoot and hit from his position.

The man lifted an arm and waved sligh
tly, and that’s when he recognized the person who had just saved his life was none other than his squire-in-training, Benjamin.

He lifted his hand and nodded his
head in acknowledgement. Then he looked back over the wall of the barbican and watched as the Scots were retreating quickly and heading back over the border as another band of men came to their rescue.

“I wonder who they are,” he said, squinting his eyes, trying to see the pennant of his rescuers in the distance.

Amethyst pulled away from Marcus and looked over the side, and all of a sudden her eyes opened wide and a smile spread across her face.

“Papa!” she cried, rushing to the stairs and heading to the ground. Marcus wiped off his sword and stuck it into the scabbard at his waist and hurried after her.

Amethyst ran
across the blood-stained ground, not focusing on the bodies of the wounded or dead men all around her, but only looking at her father as he rode toward her with a small band of men right behind him. There were several carts loaded down with things being pulled by horses in their entourage as well.

“Papa,” she cried again, holding up her skirts and running to greet him.

“Amethyst?” she heard him exclaim. He stopped his horse and dismounted quickly, opening his arms to greet her. She ran to him and threw her body against his, burying her face against his chest.

“Papa, what
are you doing here?” she asked in excitement.

“I could say the same for you, daughter,” said Talbot, the earl of Blackpool. “We rode right into the middle of an attack by the Scots and the last
thing I expected to find was my daughter on the battlefield with the men. What is this new husband of yours like that he would expect you to do such a thing?”

“I expect nothing of the sort from
your daughter, Earl Blackpool, and I was just as shocked as you to find her in the midst of the battle.” Marcus walked up to join them.

“Papa, this is my new husband, Marcus,” Amethyst said, introducing them.

“’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Earl,” said Marcus with a nod.

“As it is for me to finally meet you as well, Earl,” her father rallied.

“But what brings you to Northumberland?” asked Marcus.

“I decided instead of sending the dowry for your marriage by messenger, I would bring it myself. Besides, I wanted to see Clement, as well as
check on the progress of the castle.”

“I am sorry to say that the castle is not progressing as well as I’d planned,” said Marcus, “but the funds have run low.”

“Well, not anymore. I’ve brought carts full of supplies as well as the dowry. And I’ve received a missive from the king himself, saying he’d be sending more money soon. He’s also asked me to relay the message that he will not be visiting to see the progress until spring.”

“Spring?” asked Marcus and nodded. “The castle will be done by then.”

“Where is your father?” asked Talbot. “After all, I’d like to see him again, as we scarcely had time to converse when we made the betrothal. I’d like to talk and find out more about him.”

Amethyst watched as Marcus’s face suddenly clouded over, scanning the battlefield for his father. “Peter,” he called out, stepping away quickly. His squire rode up on his horse, and Amethyst was glad to see he was still alive. “Peter, where is my father?”

Peter dismounted, and then pointed across the field where two men were helping Gilbert to walk. His head was gashed and bleeding, and he was bent over and looked very pale.

“Father!” Marcus rushed to the man’s side and Amethyst followed right behind him. “What happened?” he ground out. “
And where the hell was your squire to let this happen to you?”

“His squire is dead,” said one of the men solemnly.

“I took a damned blow to the head with one of the Scots’ battleaxes,” said his father. “I’d be dead right now if I hadn’t moved at the last moment. I’m only grazed, so don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“We need to g
et him into the solar at once.” Marcus directed his men who were helping his father to walk. “And someone get him wrapped up before he bleeds to death.”

“I’ve brought my healer with
us,” said Talbot. “Perhaps she can be of some assistance?”

“Aye,” said Marcus, reaching over to take one side of his father
from the footsoldier. “We’ll need all the help we can get. Sir Gawain,” he called out.

The knight came forward, bruised and bloodied from battle. “Aye, my lord?”

“Find out the death count and get all of the wounded into the keep immediately.” Then he looked to his father. “This is a battle that didn’t have to be, if we’d just let the prisoners go.”

“Not until the damned Scots p
ay the ransom,” said his father. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in Marcus’s arms.

Chapter 21

’Twas over three weeks before Marcus’s father was even able to get out of bed. Amethyst had seen to his ministrations by her own hand, and the healer that had arrived with her father as well as Matilda had watched over him too.

She knew Marcus had been feeling on edge, thinking he was going to lose his father, as he hadn’t been himself since that day. But instead of really showing his emotions, he’d stayed busy in directing the workers, and the outs
ide of the castle as well as both gatehouses and the barbican were now finally finished.

“Amethyst,” called Matilda, heading across the bailey
, excitement showing in her eyes. “It’s snowing!” She put out her arms and turned in a full circle and opened her mouth, trying to catch the snowflakes on her tongue.

“I am glad the
outside construction of the castle is finally finished,” said Amethyst, seeing the weather as more of a hindrance than a joy. She’d always loved snow before now, but since Marcus had been very upset by the state of his father, everything seemed to bother her lately. He’d been distant from her, and though she knew it had nothing to do with their relationship, it still weighed heavy upon her.

“I just saw your father inside, and he said he was going to be staying until after your birthday.”

“My birthday,” she repeated, having almost forgotten about it in all the chaos lately.

“I heard him talking with the cooks,
” relayed Matilda, “and they are planning to celebrate, since your birthday is also on Christmas. I really shouldn’t tell you, but I think they are concocting a feast like you’ve never seen in your life.”

“Oh, Matilda, I just can’t be excited about Christmas, my birthday, or any kind of celebration right now. I know Marcus is very upset because of the blow his father took to the head. And I think he is contempla
ting setting the prisoners free, even against his father’s wishes. He doesn’t want the Scots coming back and attacking again.”

“Well, he should
set the prisoners free then. My uncle should not have a say in what he does.”

“But the prisoners are your uncle’s. If he wanted, he could take them back to his castle, and that would only prolong the attacks in both places. If only the Scots would pay the ransom and this would all be over.”

“Well, mayhap they will.”

“Your uncle has set the ransom at
a hundred marks. No clan has that kind of money to hand over, even if it is for the release of their laird. The only options we have are to set them free, or fight against them again. And I know Marcus cannot bring himself to do either.”

“Well, mayhap you should try to set them free like you were going to do with the women.”

“I cannot go against my word to my husband. I am afraid there is nothing I can do in this matter.”

“Then come back inside, Ame
thyst, as it is cold out here.”

“
I have my cloak,” she said, wrapping it around herself. And I will return shortly. But first I am going to pay a visit to Marcus’s rose garden. For some reason, it calms me to be in there. And I also like visiting the gravesite of his mother. It fills a void inside me since I cannot visit my own mother’s grave.”

“All right, but don’t be long. Your father has all ready been asking about you, and will be out here looking for you soon.”

“Please, Matilda, don’t tell anyone where I’m going.” She knew the girl couldn’t keep a secret, so she’d only have a short time before someone came to get her. With that, she turned and headed toward the garden. It was a very cold day and the wind was picking up. She put her head down and trudged forward as the snow started to fall faster all around her.

She entered the garden,
sad to see the roses had all died. She made her way under the trellises and through the maze of hedges, and stopped in her tracks as she got to the center, where she saw the unmistakable red of the Scottish prisoners’ tartans.

“Nay!” she gasped, and then held a hand over her mouth
, but it was too late. They turned to discover her presence.

“Fast, let’s go,” one shouted, and they turned and ran through the labyrinth toward the back wall. She was about to turn and run back to the castle, when someone grabbed her from behind and held a dagger to her throat.

“Dinna move or ye will find yer head lying next to yer body.”

She looked to the far
, high wall where three men were pulling themselves up by means of a rope and escaping over the top. Well, that solved the problem of what to do with the prisoners, anyway.

“Who are you and what do you want with me?” she asked, trying to
ignore the fact she was at the end of a Scottish blade yet once again. But this time she wasn’t shaking in fright like the last time. This time she was angry.

“I’m no’ one o’ them if that’s what ye think. I’m only here by request te help them escape, since only a Highlander would be able te do it.”

“A Highlander?” She looked from the corner of her eye and could see the man’s plaid. But instead of the red and green tartan of the Kerrs, she saw purple mixed with green and brown. She’d seen this plaid before, remembering a tartan her aunt Clarista had once sent her mother as a present. It had been a tartan of the clan she’d married into, so Amethyst knew exactly to which Highland clan this man belonged.

“You’re a MacKeefe,” she said, and felt the man’s muscles tighten in his arm around her.

“How do ye know that?” he asked.

“Because, I am related to your laird, Ian MacKeefe’s wife, Lady Clarista.
”

“Ian is no’ our laird. His son Storm is now.” Then she heard the man call to his friends as they escaped over the wall. “Hurry
, I hear someone comin’.”

When he moved his ar
m she was able to see the blade he held in his hand. And to her surprise, the man’s dagger looked a lot like the one she used to have as a child. But his had a black stone that was cracked with an orange line running through it mounted into the hilt. She’d heard of a dagger just like this from her mother on her deathbed. It was the dagger that her mother had tried to steal – the one that brought the curse upon her. She was sure of it. She remembered the name of the stone. The name her mother had called it.

“Onyx,”
she said in a soft voice. That whole memory of her mother birthing the stillborn baby boy and then dying, came back to her clearly now.

“What did ye
say?” the Highlander asked.

“Onyx,” she said once more.

The man released his hold and pushed her away, and she turned to face him.

“How do ye know me name
, lassie?” he asked, surveying her as if she were naught but a witch.

She looked at the man, but did not answer. He was very large and
very tall, and had muscles in his upper arms that looked as if he could kill her with one squeeze from his hands. He towered over her, and she had to look upward in order to see his face.

His black hair was wet with snow an
d hung down framing his face, falling in tangles around his shoulders. He had stubble on his jaw, and though by his build he looked to be a full-fledged man, she still got the feeling he was very young.

“I didn’t kno
w your name was Onyx,” she said. “I just noticed your dagger. I used to have one very similar to yours.” Then she looked into his eyes and her heart just about stopped. The man had one black eye and one orange. He looked to be a demon. And she had seen this only once before in her life. They were the eyes of her dead brother!

She felt her body freeze, and she couldn’t move even if she wanted to.

“Amethyst?” she heard her father calling her, coming through the labyrinth, and she was thankful now that Matilda had such a wagging tongue.

The Scot
started to back away toward the wall to follow his friends, but Amethyst stopped him.

“You’re my brother,” she said, causing hi
m to stop and stare into her eyes.

“I am a Highlander, a
nd ye are a stinkin’ Sassenach,” he said. “Dinna ever call me yer brother because it isna true.”

“It is,” she said. “My baby brother had one orange eye and one of
midnight black just like you. And my mother tried to steal that dagger in your hand from a blind hag. That’s why she died. We thought you’d died as well.”

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head
, then unsheathed his sword as her father stepped through the labyrinth and saw him. The earl went for his sword as well, but Amethyst stopped him.

“Nay, Papa, don’t hurt him!
This is your son, Onyx.”

Her f
ather slowly unsheathed his sword anyway, moving forward cautiously.

“I have no son,” he growled. “My son died and was thrown into the sea by one of my guards just as I’d ordered.”

“Look at his eyes, Papa,” she begged him. “One orange, one black. You know as well as I that he is your son and my baby brother. He’s alive! He didn’t die after all. And he carries the onyx dagger that Mother tried to steal.”

“Then I’ll kill him for certain, as it is because of that
damned demon ripping apart her body with his large form being born that she is dead.”

She heard the shouts from the top of
the wall, seeing the escaped prisoners urging Onyx to hurry, but he didn’t move. Then she noticed them disappearing over the wall and pulling away the rope with them, his only means of escape. Her father rushed forward with his sword drawn, but Amethyst stepped in front of the Highlander with her arms outstretched, blocking his body.

“
I won’t let you kill him. He is your own flesh and blood.” And when she turned to look back at the man, he was staring at her father with a vengeance in his eyes that seemed very demonic indeed.

Then he
took off quickly toward the back wall, and in a matter of seconds was scaling it with his bare hands and climbing the rose bushes since the escape rope had been taken away. She knew he was truly a madman to even attempt it, as the thorns had to be ripping him apart.

“Sound the alarm,” her father called at the top of his lungs.
“The damned Scots are back.”

S
he saw the man named Onyx stand up straight atop the wall, raise his fist and shout something in the Gaelic language. Then he looked downward and jumped over the other side. Amethyst knew a normal man would be killed by the distance he’d just fallen, but somehow she also knew this madman had cheated death once again, and was safe.

“What’s going on?” Marcus appeared in the labyrinth with Matilda and Peter right behind him.

“The Scots are back!” said her father.

“Nay,” answered Amethyst. “A Highlander just helped the prisoners escape.”

“Did he harm you?” asked Marcus rushing to her side.

“No
, he didn’t. Nor would he.”

“Where did he go?” asked Matilda.

“He climbed the rose bushes with his bare hands as if the thorns were naught but feathers. And then he stood atop the wall and jumped over the edge to the ground below.”

“Amethyst,
no one could survive that fall,” Matilda said, looking up to the top of the high wall. “And the moat is on the other side, so that makes it even further to the ground.”

“Then go look for his
body, but I am sure you will not find it,” Amethyst told her. “Because he is one of the Highlanders that they call the Madman MacKeefe.”

“Then we’ll hunt him down and bring him back and hang him for what he did,” said Peter.

“Nay,” said Amethyst with a smile and a shake of her head. “You’ll never catch him. And this man is not to be harmed. Because the Madman MacKeefe who just freed the prisoners and escaped over the wall is my brother.”