by Amy Jarecki
“It might pay you to know I’ve struck up a wee friendship with the postern tower’s night guardsman.”
Davy gave him a shove. “Why the hell didn’t ye say as much in the first place?”
“I hadn’t come around to it yet. Dammit all, you gave me a bout of melancholy with the mention of Percy’s raid on Douglas.” James stopped again. “Ye may bleat as bitter as you like, but we will have our vengeance. On that, I promise upon the graves of all the innocents who have lost their lives on account of this mindless war.”
Together, they carried out their duties in silence for the remainder of the night. When they were relieved of their posts, darkness still hung in the sky, though the cobalt blue of dawn on the horizon promised the sun would soon rise. After Davy headed for his bunk, James skirted along the inner bailey wall until he reached the postern tower. And as he neared, he sensed Lady Ailish’s presence as if her soul were a beacon calling to him.
He’d kept his distance until now. First, he’d needed to learn the inner workings of the Carlisle guards as well as earn the trust of the others—though truly ingraining himself among them would take far longer than time allowed. No matter how fast he made friends, he and Davy were still looked upon as outcasts. But the Lord Warden’s man-at-arms had been impressed with James’ fighting prowess, which he prayed purchased enough goodwill to find a way to rescue Ailish.
As he passed a chicken house, a cock crowed. And after checking over his shoulder to ensure he hadn’t been followed, he pushed through the tower’s entry. It wasn’t a residence like a keep. On the ground floor, an army of men slept on pallets in front of a hearth, its coals nearly burned to cinders. On the balls of his feet, James soundlessly hastened for the stairwell and climbed up two flights of uneven stone steps.
Before he stepped out into the passageway, he fingered his dirk, yearning to wrap his hand around the hilt yet knowing he should not. Instead, he forced a grin—one that made him look like an affable, goodly man. Which he was not. He’d sooner slit this varlet’s throat than extend the hand of friendship. In truth, withholding his wrath was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.
Not yet.
“Hello the tower,” he said walking forward.
Propped on a stool and leaning against the wall, the guard sputtered and shook himself awake. “Jimmy? What the blazes are you doing here?”
“My patrol just ended. Thought you might want to join me for a pint afore we head for our pallets.”
The lauds bell rang and, just as James expected, footsteps resounded from the stairwell, followed by the stirrings of the men below.
The guard grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.”
James pointed down the corridor. “I heard you’re guarding a princess.”
“Hardly. The first night the woman carried on like a shrew. Now she refuses to utter a bloody word.”
James’ fingers twitched. If only he could wrap them around the disrespectful lout’s throat. Instead he moved to the entrance of the passageway. Aye, it would be easy enough to take the lass out of the cell, but then there were a thousand men to contend with once they left the tower. “How many prisoners are under your guard?”
“Just the one at the moment.”
“What does His Lordship aim to do with her?”
“Dunno. He sent word to the king. The woman’s uncle as well. Truth be told, I’m surprised Caerlaverock hasn’t shown his face by now.”
“Mayhap he does not want to claim her,” James said.
“I would not,” the guard replied with a smirk as his replacement stepped into the chamber. They swarmed around this place like flies.
James drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword. It would be so easy to gut them both and take the keys. In no time, he’d be holding Lady Ailish in his arms.
But another five guards filed into the chamber.
Fie!
“How about that pint?” asked the guard. “I assume you’re putting forth the coin.”
Ailish hadn’t seen hide nor hair of James since she’d seen him sparring in the courtyard a sennight ago. Where was he now? Had he left Carlisle? Was she now on her own?
After all, if what the Lord Warden had said was true, the postern tower was as impenetrable as the Tower of London. No one ever escaped and not even the Black Douglas could spirit her away.
I refuse to believe he has abandoned me!
Ailish would go to her grave before she named James Douglas or any of the men as her accomplices.
The door clicked. “You’ve a visitor,” announced the guard.
Her heart raced. Had her knight in shining armor come at last? Did he have a plan? Had he found Harris? She did her best to smooth out her veil, then stood expectantly with her hands clasped.
As soon as her uncle sauntered into the cell, her spirits sank to her toes.
“Well, well,” he said, his lips disappearing into a thin line, his shark-like eyes accusing. “It seems I cannot be rid of you. I never should have left you alive. You and that insolent brother of yours.”
Ailish tightened her grip, making her knuckles white. “What have you done with Harris?”
“Humph.” Herbert raised a kerchief to his nose and moved to the window. “It wreaks in here.”
While he had his back turned, she stooped and slipped the dagger from her hiding place. “I agree. The odor has grown quite obnoxious given the present company.”
“You always did have a barbed tongue.”
“Oh? I hear it runs in the family, dear uncle.” She took a step closer, her heart hammering. James had taught her how to wield a knife, but his warnings whispered at the back of her mind. If she failed, she may very well meet her end.
“Why did you not kill Harris if you hate us so much?” she asked, sliding even nearer.
Herbert turned and examined his fingernails as if she posed no threat whatsoever. “The boy is young. Edward thinks he can change him—make him a vassal of the English crown. But I reckon he’s wasting his time.”
“Is he in London?”
“Edward?”
“Harris.”
“I think not. The brat will be fostered and not by me.”
“Because you’re a Scot?”
Herbert smirked. “Because I am unwilling.”
“But you have no heir,” she ventured.
By the flash of ire in her uncle’s eyes, she’d hit a nerve. And his silence confirmed it.
Behind her back, she turned the dagger, gripping it like an iron pick, the way James had taught her. “That’s why you need him.”
“I do not need anyone.”
“Please.” Perhaps a little pleading might help. “I only want to know he is safe and being well-cared for.”
“That I can confirm.” He shifted his gaze her way, his grey eyes raking down her body. “Now you must tell me something.”
“Oh?” she asked, watching the pulse at the base of his neck. Just a few inches closer.
“The Lord Warden tells me you’ve persistently insisted you traveled to Carlisle alone.”
She dared to take a step, the knife slipping with perspiration from her fingers. “Is that so difficult to believe?”
“For you?” He snorted. “Not really. You may have inherited your mother’s beauty, but unlike her, you always were too headstrong for your own good.”
He grabbed her chin with one hand, his fingers digging into her face. “The prioress told me you’ve been gone for some time, though she did confirm you took a horse and left alone.” A haughty chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Might I tell you your carelessness has ruined any feeble marriage prospects you may have had, no matter how despicable the swine. Nonetheless, my guess is you are stupid enough to believe you could ride into Carlisle and demand to see the lad.”
“Is he here?”
“Shut it, wench.” He sneered, his teeth yellow and his breath rank. “The lad is no longer your concern. You will never again see the light of day. Mark me, I have seen to it y
ou will suffer a long and terrible death.”
He drew back his hand as if to deliver a slap.
Ailish flinched, but rather than shy away, she lunged in, gnashed her teeth and thrust the knife into the pulsing vein.
As he recoiled, she skirted away. A look of shock and utter disbelief filled the man’s eyes as he grappled for the hilt, his only sound a choking croak.
Ailish cringed, her stomach heaving as he dropped to his knees and fell on his face.
Merciful Father, what have I done?
Her gaze shot to the viewing panel. By the grace of God, no guard attended the door.
Clapping a trembling hand over her mouth, she gaped down. “Herbert?” she whispered.
By the blood spreading across the stone floor, he was well and truly dead. If they found her standing over him, she’d be sent to the gallows before the noon bell tolled.
As fast as she could, Ailish retrieved her dagger and slid it into her hiding place. Then she snatched the dirk from her uncle’s belt, hissing as she made a small cut on her own throat. Blood seeped down her chest while she wrapped the weapon in his fist.
“Guard!” she shrieked, smearing a swath of red across her throat. “He, he, he tried to murder me!”
22
Receiving a slap across the face, James startled awake. “What the blazes?” he asked, lashing out with backhand of his own.
“Not here,” Davy clipped in a sharp whisper while he rubbed his jaw.
Blinking the fog of sleep out of his eyes, James sprang to his feet and dressed quickly.
“Follow me.”
As James belted on his sword, Davy led him to the rear of the alehouse where they’d spent the first night.
Caelan stepped from the shadows.
“What’s happened?” James asked. “Are the men well?”
“’Tisn’t the men. They’re still hiding. But I followed the Lord of Caerlaverock through the city gates and then, whilst I spent half the day looking for you pair, it seems Lady Ailish slit his throat.”
A rock the size of a cannonball sank to the pit of James’ gut. “My God.”
“Word is the Lord Warden is planning to take her to London to stand trial. His Lordship’s man-at-arms is assembling the retinue now.”
James scratched the stubble on his chin, itchy from a week’s growth. “Why London? Why not pass sentence here?”
“She claims she was defending herself.”
“Seems likely. And I’ll wager Edward would be elated to assume control of a highborn maid who is as bonny as Lady Ailish.” James scratched the itching stubble along his jaw. “But how did she overpower the scoundrel?”
Caelan shrugged. “I’m in no position to ask. I reckon doing so would only draw more attention than we need.”
“This could be the opportunity we’ve been waiting for,” said Davy.
“Agreed.” Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, a plan began to take root in James’ mind. “I want the pair of you to take the men and ride ahead. Set an ambush a good distance from Carlisle—far enough away to prevent someone from easily riding for reinforcements. And ensure you have the high ground.”
Caelan grinned, running his fingers along the string of the bow secured across his shoulder. “Aye, sir.”
“And you?” asked Davy. “Where will you be?”
“With luck, I’ll be riding beside Her Ladyship.”
“Luck?” The naysayer shook his head. “Since when has luck ever been on our side?”
“’Tis time for the tides to change, is it not, my friend?” He gave Davy’s shoulder a reassuring clap. “If I am denied, I will follow as closely as possible without drawing attention. Now go.”
After racing back to his pallet, James collected his gear, then headed to the stables to saddle his horse.
When he rode beneath the archway leading into the courtyard, two sentries crossed their pikes in front of him. “Halt!”
“Allow me to pass.”
“Stand down.” The man-at-arms who had hired him marched forward. “You ought to be on your pallet, Jimmy. You are needed on the ramparts tonight.”
James placed his hands on his horse’s withers and leaned forward. “I’m told you are leading the Lord Warden’s army southward with a dangerous prisoner.”
“If we are, it is no concern of yours.”
“But what if I want to make it my concern, sir?”
“I’ve already assembled my men—soldiers who have served His Lordship for years, mind you. I need trustworthy men who know how to soldier.”
“But I am your best sword. There is no one who can better protect a prisoner than me. Besides, I have no intention of remaining a night watchman for the rest of my days.”
The man-at-arms glanced over his shoulder, then squinted his way. “Take up the rear. But if you make one questionable move, I will personally see you hanged.”
“Aye, sir. You can count on me, sir,” James said, though doing so nearly killed him. And he didn’t wait for the man to entertain a change of heart. He immediately turned his mount and headed for the end of the retinue.
Only a dozen soldiers were in formation, sitting side by side on their horses. And James made the thirteenth.
“What are we waiting for?” he asked the guard in front of him.
“They’re bringing out the prisoner.”
James gulped as he shifted his gaze to the postern tower.
Ailish stepped into the courtyard flanked by two guards, her hands in manacles. Beneath the tie of her cloak, a swath of dried blood stained her throat.
Ye Gods, the bastard truly had tried to kill her. Perhaps that’s why the Lord Warden hadn’t sent her directly to the gallows.
As she swept her gaze across the scene, James pulled his hood lower on his brow. If she recognized him and it showed on her face, all might be lost. As he dipped his chin, he watched her through the fan of his eyelashes.
The sennight she’d spent in prison had not been kind. But even though she was thinner, her hair matted, and her clothing soiled, the woman walked with her head held high.
By God, she was as regal as a queen. Who knew what horrors she’d endured? Clearly, His Lordship’s hospitality had been cruel and unpleasant.
Guilt crept up James’ nape. He should have risked everything and attacked before it came to this. But he’d been so hell-bent on slipping her out and avoid being killed in the process—it would have slayed him if she had been harmed in a botched escape attempt. Ferreting her out of the cell was the easy part. Escaping Carlisle alive was quite a different matter. The loss of his kin in Douglas had played too heavily on his conscience. This was war. In war, there were casualties. If any man was afraid to die, afraid to take risks, then he was already dead.
After Her Ladyship climbed a mounting block and was sitting on a horse, he looked to the skies and prayed for no harm to come to Her Ladyship—now flanked two-deep by soldiers.
Though an attack on a small retinue would be far easier than escaping this fortress, once they rode out of the city gates, there were no guarantees. There would be bloodshed, of that he was absolutely certain.
“I would prefer a modicum of privacy, if you please,” said Ailish, marching into the brush. “I do not need an audience of rank guards supervising as I attend my personal needs.”
“Form a perimeter,” said one.
Ailish groaned under her breath. The Lord Warden’s soldiers were insufferable but there was no chance she’d let one of them watch. She stopped behind an enormous clump of yellow gorse and turned full circle to ensure she was out of sight.
Thank the good Lord for small mercies.
After she’d taken care of her needs, she stood and brushed out her skirts when a bannock-sized rock caught her eye. Etched in charcoal was, “Black D +.” Her heart hammered as she quickly dipped down, rubbed off the writing, and turned the stone over. “James?” she whispered.
The whistle of a warbler came from the brush.
Smart of him. I
t was too dangerous to talk with so many armed men standing guard.
“My Lady,” bellowed one of the guards. “You’ve had quite long enough.”
“Not to worry.” Good heavens, her voice sounded far too chirpy. She cleared her throat and she continued, “I am coming out now.”
Ailish pursed her lips, affecting an expression of annoyance as she stepped into the clearing. A guard grabbed her manacles and tugged her toward a fallen log. “Sit here. I’ll fetch you a bit of bread.”
Saying nothing, she did as told while her gaze flicked across the faces of each soldier. Where was James? Was he following? Would he attack? When?
For the love of everything holy, she would do anything to flee from the Lord Warden.
The guard returned with a large serving of bread—more than she’d eaten in any one day since being locked in the postern tower. “I suggest you eat your fill. With the longer days, it will most likely be quite a while before the next meal.”
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the food and taking an enormous bite. Her mouth watered as if she’d just filled it with nectar. Good heavens, the bread wasn’t even stale.
As she ate, she continued to search until she spotted James by the horses. He was larger than anyone else, broader in the shoulders as well. She recognized his two-handed sword at his waist, his dirk and armor. He wore a cloak, but he’d pushed the hood back, revealing a shadow of black hair upon his head. Had he decided to grow it back?
“Jimmy,” hollered the man-at-arms, who was standing beside the Lord Warden.
James responded to the call and joined the men. Ailish smiled to herself. Her knight had not been following. He’d been in their midst since they’d set out. But why hadn’t she noticed him before?
And why had he not shown himself to me straightaway?
No matter how much she wanted to be angry with him for his ruse, her insides bubbled. Quickly, she glanced across the faces again. Hmm, none of his other men were in the retinue, not even Davy.
She accepted a cup of water and watched James from behind it. What was he planning? If only she could have talked to him when she was in the gorse.
