Highlander Betrayed (Guardians of the Targe) (7 page)

“And I was injured!” Rowan added an extra thick layer of indignation to her words.

Scotia tried to sit up again, but Elspet held her in place with a hand on her arm. “I can see why one might want to throw herself into such a man’s arms.”

All three girls giggled.

“What? You think me too old to throw myself into a braw man’s arms?” Now it was Elspet’s turn to act indignant, arching her brows at them, her eyes wide. “How do you think I got Kenneth?”

“Mum!” Jeanette and Scotia both squealed her name. Rowan leaned back carefully on the bench, resting her back against the wall. Work would wait. She’d not miss the opportunity to enjoy this rare moment.

D
UNCAN HAD SHOWN
Nicholas where to stow his travel sack and they had taken a quick meal in the great hall. Now as they made their way slowly across the cramped bailey toward the remains of the fallen wall where Uilliam had instructed them to meet him, Nicholas kept an eye out for Archie and his telltale ginger hair in case he’d made his way inside the compound. He surveyed the people moving about the cramped open space, greeting each other, hauling water from the well, on their way somewhere. He was also noting the quickest way out of the castle. Should the need arrive there was the main gate, and a small postern gate tucked between two wood and thatch buildings pent up against the southern curtain wall. And of course the rubble pile of the northern section of the curtain wall was a great gaping hole in the castle defenses and thus a good way in or out of Dunlairig Castle.

He noticed that nearly everyone except the smallest of the children carried at least one knife in plain sight. Who knew how many were concealed.

Nicholas nodded at a young woman carrying an empty bucket and tools for cleaning hearths, turning to watch as she made her way to the tower that stood to the east side. It was situated across the small bailey from the hallhouse—Duncan had called it the great hall—where they’d taken their meal.

“What is in the tower?” he asked Duncan.

“The chief’s family’s quarters.”

“Is that where they took Mistress Rowan?”

Duncan slanted a look at him and nodded.

Nicholas had been watching the movements of the people of the castle since he had walked through the gate, taking note of any patterns he could discern, watching for any sign of extra protection that might indicate something precious, like the Highland Targe, being guarded. But he had seen nothing so far.

He turned his attention back to his surroundings, craning his neck, looking up the length of the square, grey tower. The sky was bright behind it, making it difficult to see any detail other than the dark holes that marked windows. Would the chief keep a protective talisman in the place where his family slept? It seemed likely, especially since there were precious few places to hide anything in this castle made up of an ancient hallhouse, an old tower, and a small array of sheds and huts along the less than sturdy curtain walls.

He would have to look for an opportunity to get inside the tower soon to search it. Perhaps Duncan would take him there to see Rowan? It was worth a try once he had the man’s trust. For now, he’d settle for learning what he could about the wall and any defenses they might have planned until it could be rebuilt. Any knowledge could prove useful.

“Uilliam, we are here.” Duncan shouted at the bear of a man standing atop all that was left of the wall. A thin cloud of dust still hung in the air, washing out the color of the man and everything around him.

“Aye, I can see that,” Uilliam replied but didn’t pay any more attention to them.

“Are we supposed to just stand here, then?” Nicholas asked his companion.

Duncan shrugged, but motioned to a large squared-off stone that had tumbled into the bailey instead of outside of it. The stone was easily the size of a man and made an ample bench for them.

They sat there for a long time watching Uilliam pick his way carefully over the tumbled remains of the wall, muttering to himself. He’d stop to pick up a stone now and again, only to turn it over in his hand, then toss it back onto the pile. After a while Nicholas leaned toward Duncan.

“What is he doing?”

“He told me he wanted to take it in as it lies, that the stones might talk to him. I think he is daft, myself.”

“I am starting to agree with you.”

Duncan actually smiled at him and they sat in silence a while longer. The sound of a door opening behind them had Nicholas turning to look toward the tower. Raven-haired Scotia stepped out of the shadowed doorway into the bright bailey, a wad of bloody material in her hands. The image of the stone in Rowan’s side flashed through his mind and he found himself hoping the injury was as minor as the healer-lass had said.

Duncan waved at Scotia and she gave him a little smile and a half-hearted wave. The man smiled back and almost disguised a sigh.

Nicholas shifted his attention to his companion, watching Duncan watch the lass as she crossed to the far side of the bailey and disappeared inside a small hut.

“You sigh over Scotia,” Nicholas said.

“I do.” Duncan didn’t take his eyes off the hut’s door, clearly waiting for another glance from the lass. “She is determined to get into trouble and it is all Rowan and I can do to keep her out of it.”

A weird twisty feeling grabbed Nicholas’s stomach. “You and Rowan? Are you married to the lass?” The question was out of his
mouth before he could stop it. There had been nothing obvious between the two of them outside the castle. Surely if she had a husband, he would have rushed to her side. If that husband was Duncan, he should be beaten for not taking care of the lass when she was injured.

Duncan stopped watching the hut and looked at Nicholas with a considering eye. “Would it matter if I was?”

It wasn’t an answer so likely he was not. Nicholas shrugged. It would not do to appear too taken with Rowan when Scotia was the more likely source of information. “I could not help but notice that she is a bonny lass. It would seem likely that she is wed.”

“She is not.”

“So you and she are keeping an eye on Scotia?”

“Someone has to. The irritating lass can find trouble in the most unlikely of places and ways. I have known her since she was a bairn in her mum’s arms. She used to be such a sweet lass. I watched over her like a big brother when she was little. But she’s gotten spoiled and, since her mum’s been sick, she has gone a bit wild.” He shook his head. “She is fiercely good at finding trouble.”

Nicholas knew an opportunity when he saw it. No matter what Duncan said, he could see the way the man’s gaze kept drifting back to the door where Scotia had disappeared. He might not realize it yet, but he was taken with the difficult lass, and that might come in handy somewhere in this mission.

“You are kin?” Nicholas carefully looked away from the man, hoping he’d reveal something useful about Scotia if he didn’t feel too pressed.

“Everyone who lives in Dunlairig Castle is kin at some level. We are not close kin, though. Distant cousins at best.”

Nicholas leaned back on his hands, watching the enigmatic Uilliam pace along the rubble, his shadow following him as it rippled over the fallen stones. It wasn’t much information, but it was a start.

“Och, you laggards!” Uilliam finally summoned them to join him on the wall.

“At last,” Nicholas said, noting Duncan’s quick glance back at the hut where Scotia had disappeared.

The two of them made quick work of climbing the pile to join Uilliam at the top.

“It looks as if it burst from within,” Duncan said as they arrived at the highest point of the rubble pile.

Uilliam didn’t look at Duncan, but he nodded. “Aye, it does. It is almost as if something trapped inside the wall forced its way out except for this part here, where it looks as if something pushed back, keeping the wall from falling outward or inward. It collapsed on itself. ’Tis a good thing, too, for look—” He pointed down the embankment toward the area where Rowan and Scotia had been standing when the wall went down.

“It would have crushed them,” Nicholas said quietly.

“Aye, it surely would have. ’Tis dumb luck that this part did not tumble down the hill as the rest did. If it had I do not think we would have Rowan or Scotia, or even you”—he nodded at Nicholas—“still with us today.”

“Has this happened before?” Nicholas pretended to examine the remains of the wall, but he knew nothing of building or masonry so it was really just a show of interest.

“Nay. It has stood nigh on twoscore years.” Uilliam shook his head. “I ken not what is wrong. Perhaps when we remove the rubble it will become clear.”

Nicholas turned his attention to the stones beneath his feet. “Is there a burn that runs beneath here?” He lifted a stone as if he spied something.

“Nay, the rock ledge is dense and stable.” Uilliam sounded like he spoke to himself. He pulled on the right side of his night-black beard as if that helped him think. “There is a wee bit of a slope to this area, but nothing that would cause the wall to topple.”

“I felt the ground tremble before the wall exploded.” Nicholas was trying to remember exactly what order things had happened.

“Are you sure? I did not,” Uilliam said.

“’Twas slight. I do not think ’twas enough to topple such a wall. You are sure none of your enemies have sabotaged it, or weakened it by attacks?” Nicholas asked.

“I suppose that is possible. We will see.”

Nicholas considered the wall, or what was left of it. “Are you a mason, then, Uilliam?” he asked.

“Nay, but I expect we will learn something as we clear the rubble. We shall build it ourselves, anyway. No reason to spread the word that our wall is breached. The damn Diarmids would leap upon that news like hounds on a bone.”

As would King Edward. Perhaps Archie was already on his way to their contact in Oban to send word to England. That would explain his disappearance, though Nicholas thought it would be better to wait until they had the Targe. It would be better if Archie had stayed here and stuck to their original plan.

“Is there another way to shield the bailey from this direction?” Nicholas let the words hang in the air for a moment, letting the idea of a shield wiggle its way into Uilliam’s thoughts even as he might learn about some other defense this clan had that would be of use to the king.

Uilliam cast him a sidelong glance, his eyebrows drawn down so low his eyes were but a dark pool beneath them. “Why?”

“It seems likely word will spread, though you are isolated here so it may take a while, but all it will require is one person passing by. ’Tis not as if you can hide a missing wall.”

“Are you going to be the one to spread the tale?” Uilliam stepped close enough to Nicholas that Nicholas had to look up, but only a little.

“Nay, not me,” he said, raising his hands palms out. “I plan to stay right here for a while. I will not be spreading tales to anyone.” Not if Archie was taking care of it, at any rate.

“Good.” Uilliam stepped back from Nicholas and turned his attention back to the rubble pile. “We’ll figure out a way to protect the castle and the clan, never you worry.” Uilliam’s face was like a thundercloud, the black hair and beard sheltering eyes that crackled like lightning. “Never you worry.”

Nicholas had no wish to antagonize the man, so he turned his attention to the task before them.

“Well then,” he said, “no matter why this fell, or when word gets out, it wants cleaning up.”

He gazed to the outside of the wall, looking out toward the azure loch far below, keeping a lookout for a shock of ginger hair in case Archie hadn’t gone back to Oban and was still out there. At the same time he wondered how they could clear the debris when the hillside dropped off so close, and so steeply just beyond where they stood. He looked left toward the gate and the corner of this wall that still stood, then to his right toward the tower and the other corner of the ruined wall, which was still standing. Just past that corner, outside the standing wall and beyond the rubble field he spied a rough meadow, less pitched than the hill, with a lone flowering tree in its midst, and dotted with rusty-colored shaggy cows. It was the most likely place to take the remains of the wall.

He would get little opportunity to watch the activity in the castle while hauling rubble to that pasture but it would give him ample time to win the trust of Uilliam and Duncan and then it would be easier to slip the leash and search the castle for the prize.

“Duncan,” he asked, rubbing his hands together as if he was anxious to get to work, “where can I find a cart?”