Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] (47 page)

"I want you to know this was done without my knowledge." He glanced at her. "De Soulis must have ordered the firing of Elladoune."

"I know. If the sheriff's men are at Elladoune, they will be patrolling the forest too. They will see the brethren and the rebels with the war machine!"

"Then I hope your friends have sense enough to abandon their engine and seek the safety of the abbey precinct."

"Hurry!" she said, leaning forward as if that could make the curragh fly faster over the water. "Hurry! There is something to be done to help them!"

He glanced at her as he dipped the oar along one side, then the other. "What is that?"

"You showed me your secret," she said, heart pounding. "Now I will show you mine. But you must never tell, Sassenach."

"I am a keeper of secrets, my lady," he said. "Trust me."

She waited while Gawain slid them effortlessly into the shelter of the cove. He leaped out into the shallows and beached the boat on the pebbled shore, then handed her out of the boat.

She ran toward the cache of belongings that they had left beneath the fallen tree. With shaking hands, she pulled out his chain mail and gear, and her own clothing.

Gawain picked up his quilted linen gambeson, pulling it on over the belted plaid. He strapped his sword belt over the war garment and pulled on his long boots. Juliana handed him the chain-mail hood and bent for the hauberk.

"Not that," he said. "There is no time. This will do." He took his sword and slid its length into the sheath at his belt.

"Highland men," she said, "often wear only the quilted coat and helmet over their plaids. Most cannot afford a full suit of chain mail. Now you look even more like a Highland warrior."

He slid her a wry glance. "You will not stop, will you, now that you have this possibility at hand."

She smiled brightly. "Never,
mo cridhe."

He looked toward the castle, where a rim of flame edged one wall. "We must go. Hurry." He held out his hand.

"Go without me," she said. "I will meet you there."

She fell to her knees and reached under the log again, pulling out another cloth sack from beneath a layer of leaves. She opened it and drew out a short white cloak made of swan's feathers sewn to a linen lining.

Standing, she draped the soft, delicate garment over her shoulders, tied it at the neck, and pulled up the hood. The cloak's curved hem came to her hips. In the soft silvery light of dawn, the feathers were nearly luminous.

"My God," Gawain murmured, watching. "So the Swan Maiden does exist." He tilted his head and gave her a curious smile.

"For now, she does," Juliana admitted. "And she has been seen before, near the loch, and in the forest."

"No doubt. So this is your secret."

"Part of it. We have used the ruse of the Swan Maiden for years, to mislead the king's men and keep them away from certain places in the forest and along the loch."

"Ah. So other siege engines could be moved."

"And so the king's men would keep away from the rebels' forest homes. When De Soulis captured me, and you brought me back to Elladoune, I thought I need never do this again."

"And your silence? What is the reason for that?"

"To encourage the legend. To confuse the Sassenachs. To keep secrets. Gawain—"

He placed a finger on her lips. "No need to say it." He touched the same finger to his own lips. "I never saw this."

He turned at the sound of horses thudding along a forest path above the cove. In the distance, through the trees, torchlight moved in a column along a path, and split in two directions—toward the abbey, and toward the castle.

Juliana looked in the direction of the abbey. In the forest beyond, her friends would still be dragging the siege engine, bulky and slow, along its route.

"We must hurry," she said. "I will meet you at Elladoune when the machine is safely to the river." She stretched to kiss him quickly. "Put out the fire and save our friends, I beg you."

"I will do my best. Juliana." He grabbed her shoulders. "I cannot let you do this."

"I must," she said urgently, "though it doesna please you. Just as you choose what doesna suit me. We must accept that with each other, I think, for we are too stubborn to change easily. Go—I will come to you."

He pulled her to him roughly, and kissed her again. Closing her eyes for a moment, she wanted to melt, to linger. But he moved back, and she whirled and began to thread her way between the birches. She glanced back and saw that Gawain had already started back toward Elladoune.

Pausing, she assessed her direction. If she cut across the meadow toward the abbey, the shortest way to find the monks and their siege engine, the knights might see her in the open, and pursue her; she would be a clear target. Instead, she made her way along the fringe of the forest that skirted the meadow.

To her left, she could hear hoofbeats along the path. The route led through the forest behind the abbey grounds, and eventually trailed toward the path of monks with the siege engine. If they were not stopped or diverted, the knights would soon discover the rebels.

Carefully she wended her way through trees and thick undergrowth, through silvery light and deep shadows. Her white cape nearly glowed, and was easily visible. Soon they would see her. If they pursued her, she could lead them away from the rebels.

As she ran along a slope thick with trees, she could see the knights. Six, she counted; seven. De Soulis rode in the lead, his black armor and black horse like a heavy shadow.

The forest path forked nearby, one trail leading toward the rebels, the other swinging toward the town. Juliana ran toward the forking, and waited, watching.

She took a breath and skittered down the slope, balancing herself with arms out, until she reached the cleared path at an angle, glancing left, she saw the horsemen on the track. She leaped down, far ahead of them, and stopped.

Breath heaving, she forced herself to wait. When one of the men shouted and spurred his horse forward, she whirled and took the fork toward the little town.

Without looking behind her, she ran as fast as she could. She heard the pounding and snorting of horses, heard shouts. They sounded well behind her. Pausing again, she turned.

Her pursuers were closer than she had thought. She dashed sideways through a stand of slender trees, where dense leaves shielded her progress. Glancing back, she stumbled on a hidden root, fell to her knees, and tried to catch her breath.

As she rose to her feet, a shadow emerged from the trees, and a man lunged toward her. She backed away, but he was fast and strong. His hand whipped out to grab hold of her cloak.

Pulled violently forward, she fell. Black gauntleted hands grabbed her arms, righted her, dragged her to her feet.

"Ah," De Soulis said, "the Swan Maiden is mine."

* * *

"Sergeant!" Gawain bellowed as he neared the swarm of guards clustered outside Elladoune's walls. One of the guards turned mid walked toward him. "Who gave the order to fire this castle? 'Twas not to be done yet!"

"The sheriff, sir," the man answered. "We were told to send fire-tipped arrows into the bailey, and set the outbuildings aflame. He told us not to try to take it or to go inside. But there are people in there, sir." He gestured toward the wallwalk. "They have been shooting arrows down upon us. We do not know who they are."

"The place has not yet been cleared!" Gawain said angrily. "There are women in there, and old ones—and children, for love of God!" He glanced up at the battlements. He saw a few heads bobbing behind the merlons, and as one passed an opening, he recognized Laurie. He waved an arm and shouted. Someone looked down. Gawain pointed toward the massive wooden doors, now shut.

"Sir," the guard said. "We were told 'twas empty."

"I am going in there to vacate the castle," Gawain said sharply. "In the meantime, do not attempt to attack further. You can take the men back to Dalbrae."

"Our orders are to stay here, sir," the man replied.

"Where is the sheriff?" Gawain demanded.

"Riding out after rebels, sir."

"You have done what he ordered. The castle is afire. Now be on your way." He strode past the guard toward the doors, hoping that those inside had seen him and would unbar the gate.

He heard a bolt slide free, and one of the huge, iron-studded wooden doors creaked open. Gawain slipped through the gap, stepping into shadows and smoke. Laurie slammed the door shut and he and Gawain turned to bar the doors shut again.

The portcullis was partially raised, and Gawain ducked beside Laurie as they passed beneath its iron teeth to enter the bailey. Gawain pushed back his chain-mail hood and stopped to stare at the bright blaze that filled one corner of the yard.

Flames consumed the thatched roof of the two kitchen buildings. Gawain saw a few of the MacDuffs—Teig, Uilleam, and some others—running across the yard with sloshing buckets of water, freshly drawn from the well on the other side of the garden plot. The gardens were aflame, too, bright ribbons of fire that ran up beanpoles and slicked across the greenery.

"Jesu," Gawain said, looking around. "Is everyone safe?"

"Aye, so far," Laurie said, wiping a hand across his brow. His face was streaked with soot. "We moved them all into the opposite tower, and wet the doors and walls thoroughly there. The horses and livestock were put into the ground-floor storage room in that tower, too, and we dampened the floors in there as well. And we have cleared a firebreak between the kitchen buildings and the rest of the outbuildings. The fire should be contained."

Gawain raised his brows. "Excellent," he said. "You must have had experience with castle fires."

"Och, in the Lowlands, a man gets used to this. The Southrons and the Scots are constantly burning each other out," Laurie answered. "We cannot put out the fire in the kitchens, and those buildings will burn to cinders. But the rest may be safe."

"If the sheriff's men do not shoot more fire arrows in here," Gawain agreed. "Stone will not burn, but all else—"

"Aye. Should the stable roof, or any of the outbuildings closer to the keep catch fire, we will have a much bigger matter at hand. The castle would go down easily, then."

Gawain nodded, and ran toward the stone steps that led to the battlement. Laurie went with him, shouting out to the Highlanders to keep dousing the kitchen and gardens with water.

They strode along the wallwalk behind the crenellated battlement. Gawain kept a long-legged pace with Laurie as they encountered a few Highland men, each armed with bow and arrows, hiding behind the merlons and occasionally aiming a bow through the crenel space. Two or three men gave Gawain curious glances.

Gawain stopped to search anxiously beyond the meadow for any sign of Juliana.

"Man," Laurie said, "what is that you are wearing? What happened to the rest of your mail? And your surcoat?"

"I did not have time to put them back on," Gawain muttered.

"Huh," Laurie said. "And why was it off? Where were you the night, by the way?"

"I took Juliana away for safekeeping, if you must know."

"Well, she needed that, with the sheriff in a high fit after she put on that archery exhibition—though he only deserved it. And that armor he wears is but common blackened steel, they say now." Laurie laughed. "So why the Highlander's plaidie?"

"I had naught else at the time," Gawain replied.

Laurie grinned. "A wee bit of the pleasure making with the safekeeping, was it? No wonder these fellows look at you so odd. You're dressed like a MacDuff—a warrior MacDuff at that. Mayhap they resent it. Or wonder at it."

Gawain leaned his shoulder against a merlon and folded his arms across his chest. "Laurie," he said quietly, "did I ever tell you my name—my birth name?"

Laurie scratched his whiskered chin. "Mac... I do not recall it—" He stopped and stared. "MacDuff?"

"I am Gabhan MacDuff by birth," Gawain murmured. "A few days ago, I found my grandfather's castle, Glenshie. 'Tis not far—alongside that tallest mountain across the loch."

"By heaven! Can you claim it as your own?"

"I have the right. But I must find the means to claim it."

Laurie's grin shifted into a frown. "Edward would never grant it. And who knows how long the English will hold these hills. I hear from my wife's cousin—the king's own general, Sir Aymer de Valence—that the king's military advisors nae longer find much advantage in keeping a tight hold on Highland areas."

"Too much effort, when they have to combat Bruce and his troops. That challenge grows daily."

"Look at the struggles here, and this but a small and sparse area, without the strong clan presence of other regions. Aye," Laurie said, nodding. "If you want Glenshie—and if Elladoune will go to your wife's kin—you will have to change fealties. You do not have much choice that I can see."

Gawain stared, stunned by Laurie's rapid assessment of a matter with which he himself struggled. "Go over to the Scots?"

"Aye, what of it? You are born to it, after all."

Gawain turned to peer through the crenel at the sheriff's men, still standing idly below. He was relieved to see that an attack was not an imminent threat; the knights peered nervously up at the battlements, where the Highlanders kept bows trained down toward them. "'Tis no simple matter. I do not want my family in England to pay the price again."