By the time they fell into bed, the day had exhausted them. But they clung to one another, neither saying aloud that it might be their last night together. Despite their fatigue, they made love throughout the night, desperation warring with hope. They slept sporadically, coiled together, desperate for no space to separate them. Morning came far too soon, but they couldn’t ignore the duties they each assumed on the days they became Laird and Lady Cameron. Before they left their chamber, Blair stopped Hardi with a request.
“Mo chridhe, if ma parents hadnae taught me what they did, I wouldnae have kenned even a sliver of what I do. I couldnae have helped prepare our keep and village for battle. If I bear us a bairn one day, could we name a lass Amelia or a lad Hamish for Mama and Da?” Blair clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles went white.
“If ye bear me a bairn regardless of whether there’s a battle, ye may name the wee one whatever ye want. I’ll gladly let ye choose whatever ye want after enduring childbirth, mo bhràmair bonny.” Hardi called her his bonny bride before he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet as they kissed.
As dusk approached, Blair stood beside Hardi on the battlements. She’d spent the day assigning families to spaces in the storerooms and the Great Hall. She’d overseen extra food prepared for the swelling number of people depending upon the keep to feed and shelter them. She admired how Mordag efficiently distributed bedding and supplies to families who came with nothing or not enough. Hardi gathered the farmers who arrived with the pitchforks and shovels he requested. He discussed with them how best they could serve as part of the keep’s defenses. He assigned his warriors to their battle stations and checked that men hung cauldrons of oil along the walls in case the attack should also come from outside the walls. His archers spent the day and the one prior helping the fletcher make as many arrows as they could. They weren’t of the best quality, but they would fly straight and there were plenty of them. He looked over the southern wall to where Tomas and Donald waited with horses hitched to the wagons.
“Promise me ye will go inside the moment it’s clear the enemy will breach the keep. Remain in there with the other women and children. Do what ye can to keep them calm. I have men assigned to protect all of ye, and they will barricade the doors as soon as everyone is inside. But they canna wait if people dinna hurry within.”
“I ken, Hardi. Promise me ye willna be foolish. Ye dinna have aught to prove. Our clan already kens ye’re the best warrior, and they ken ye’re a fine laird. Ye’re a hero without getting yerself killed. I ken ye worry aboot me, but I will be inside and guarded. Ye willna be. Promise me, ye’ll be careful.” She knew better than to ask a warrior to promise not to die.
“Blair, I willna do aught that will keep me from coming back to ye. I love ye with ma whole heart. Blair Ceana Sutherland, ma love, ye are the one person with whom I can share all that I am. I promise to trust ye and to be honest with ye. I promise to listen to ye, respect ye, and support ye. I promise to do all of this through whatever life brings us: riches or poverty, health or illness, through good times and bad, until the end of ma days.” Hardi repeated the vows they’d said together only a few weeks earlier. It felt closer to a lifetime after the upheaval they experienced since they rode through the gates of Inverlochy.
“Hardwin Fionn Cameron, ma love, ye are the one person with whom I can share all that I am. I promise to laugh and play with ye and grow and bend with ye. I promise to cherish every day we have together. I promise to do all of this through whatever life brings us: riches or poverty, health or illness, through good times and bad, until the end of ma days. I love ye more than I ever imagined I could love another person. We have bairns to make and raise.”
Just as they had in the orchard and later when Hardi slipped Blair’s ring onto her finger, they spoke the last line together. “We are now but one body and one blood. Let us from this day forth be united with one destiny.”
They kissed as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. They watched together as Hardi’s scout raced toward the keep, lying nearly flat over his horse’s neck. It was the signal that men entered the tunnel. Hardi whistled loudly. Tomas and Donald slapped their reins, and each wagon pulled forward. The bell to warn the remaining villagers to enter the bailey peeled.
“They willna run because it’s took dark, and they willna want to be winded,” Hardi explained. “We have aboot a half an hour.” He waggled his eyebrows, hoping to put a smile on Blair’s face. “What I could do in that time.”
Blair grinned as she strained to kiss him again. “Come back to me with at least one piece, and I will give ye far more than just a half an hour.”
“Naughty little imp,” Hardi growled as he nipped at her neck and ear. They exchanged a tender kiss before releasing one another. “I love ye, Blair.”
“I love ye, Hardi.” Blair moved toward the steps, and Hardi watched her cross the bailey. At the keep’s door, she turned to wave to him. She stood there for a long moment before they nodded to one another, and Blair went inside.
Forty-Eight
“It’s the Mackintoshes, ma laird.” Hardi’s scout, Richard, explained. “But it’s the Shaws and MacThomases who came with them.”
“They brought their septs rather than the Macphersons? Are ye sure the Macphersons arenae moving toward us on land rather than the tunnel?” Hardi pressed.
“Nay. I rode wide of the tunnel’s entrance and didna see aught in any direction but the men marching from Inverlochy.”
“Were the MacDonalds with them?” It didn’t surprise Hardi to hear that the other clans who were a part of the Chattan Confederation were accompanying the Mackintoshes. The Shaws and MacThomases were connected to the Mackintoshes through common ancestry. Once a traditional clan, the Chattans swelled into a community of allied clans through the Mackintoshes and their septs, the Macphersons, the MacBeans, and the MacPhains. The individual clans were not as powerful as others in the central and eastern Highlands, but they were a threat when they united.
“I didna see any of them. That’s what was so odd, ma laird. They camped close to Inverlochy Castle, so the MacDonalds had to ken they were there, but there werenae any in sight.”
“Ride to Inverlochy and watch goes on there. If there is any sign of the MacDonalds coming, make haste back here. We are missing something here. I want to ken if Artair MacDonald is a part of this, or if he’s willfully blind to what happens at the keep he’s been commanded to protect. For us.”
“Aye, ma laird.” Richard darted back into the bailey, mounting a fresh horse and riding out. Hardi watched him until he disappeared. He swept his gaze in all directions, but there was no sign of anyone approaching. He had scouts posted to the north, south, and west of Tor Castle; so far, none had returned to raise the alarm.
Hardi made his way to the storeroom where the entrance within Tor now hid beneath crates filled with tools from the blacksmith, farrier, armorer, and sacks of lye. Hardi agreed with Blair’s decision to hide the grain and food, but it meant he’d had to think of what he could use to weigh down the hatch. He wasn’t convinced the wall built the previous night would hold forever or that the crates would keep the hatch shut permanently, but it would slow the advancing troops and make it difficult for them to leave the storeroom in a hurry. He stationed warriors in the storeroom and down both directions of the passageway.
When he was satisfied that everything was in order, he made his way back to the battlements. He glimpsed Blair as she held a hysterical little boy in the Great Hall. They nodded to one another before Hardi went back outside. He walked the battlements, impatient yet dreading what was to come. The situation was unlike any he’d faced before. If all worked to plan, then there would be no attack and no battle. They would trap the enemy below ground, leaving them to suffocate or starve. If the plan fell apart, he faced an attack from those who broke through the barriers and attacked from the inside as well as the potential for the Mackintoshes and comrades to come from outside the walls.
>
The minutes ticked by, and nothing happened. When he was certain that the forward warriors would soon meet the dirt and wood wall, Hardi made his way toward the storeroom. He found Blair running from the kitchens in his direction. She looked over her shoulder and called out, “Go, go, go!”
Hardi caught Blair by the arms as he watched warriors he assigned to the passageway carrying vats of what smelled like bubbling tar. In an instant, he realized Blair thought of a solution he never imagined. She would have the men seal the hatch with tar, making it virtually impossible for anyone to hack through it.
“I thought of it after I saw ye go back outside,” Blair explained. “I was coming to tell ye once I kenned we had enough birch tar and could heat it fast enough. If they’re too late, they can pour it down on the men as they try to climb out of the tunnel.”
“Wife, ye are brilliant. Can ye be laird, and I’ll be the pretty face at yer side?” Hardi gave her arms a squeeze.
“Keep yer pretty face just as it is now, and we can discuss it later,” Blair grinned. “Go.”
Hardi squeezed her arms once more and stepped around her. He hadn’t taken more than five steps when the keep doors opened and someone called out, “Laird!”
He spun around to find Tomas and Donald running toward him. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Blair coming back to his side.
“It worked, ma laird,” Donald beamed. “We waited until the last man went down. By the time we pulled the wagons over the hole, there were nay men in sight. We opened the tail boards, and the dirt rained down on the hole. We heard cries but saw nay one. The dirt piled up too fast for them to shovel it out of the way or to climb. It’s sealed now. They will have to fill most of the tunnel to dig their way back out.”
“How many men do ye think are down there?” Blair asked.
“Easily ten score, ma lady,” Tomas answered.
Blair and Hardi exchanged a glance. Neither wanted to be responsible for the death of two hundred men, but neither could they allow an army to invade Tor Castle. Hardi dismissed Tomas and Donald, then turned to Blair. “What do ye think we do now? Yer idea to tar the hatch was brilliant. Between that and the wall, they shouldn’t be able to break into the storeroom any sooner than they can dig their way out.”
“We need to ken whether they had anyone hiding who could signal reinforcements. Dunn said up to fifteen score. There could be a hundred men still lurking somewhere.”
“I sent Richard back to scout near Inverlochy. I want to ken whether Artair is bringing up the rear or if he’s turning a blind eye to what’s happening beneath his nose.”
“All we can do is wait. I will make sure Dolina and Mordag get food out to the men. Besides that, I dinna ken what to do with maself,” Blair admitted.
“I feel the same. I will make ma rounds several more times, but until Richard returns, there is little anyone can do but wait. Why dinna ye see to the food, then get some rest?” Hardi suggested.
“I canna take maself off to bed as though naught is happening. Nae much is going on right this minute, but we are still under attack. Besides, I have too much nervous energy thrumming through me. There is nay way I can rest.”
“Then join me at one of the lower tables when I return. I dinna want us sitting at the dais. It’ll appear as though we are sitting on thrones watching those below us for entertainment.”
“I agree. We sit among our people,” Blair nodded.
“I canna tell ye how it makes me feel to hear ye claim ma clan as yers too.” Hardi’s smile made lines crinkle around his eyes, and deep brackets around his mouth appeared. There was a softness in his hazel eyes that belied the chaotic charge in the air.
“I’m a Cameron. This is ma clan, and this is ma home,” Blair’s voice was matter of fact, but she returned Hardi’s smile. They stood gazing at one another for a long moment before they broke apart to complete their tasks.
The night dragged on as people found places to sleep in the Great Hall or returned to the storerooms Blair assigned them. She sat propped against Hardi as she dozed. Hardi’s eyes were closed, but he listened to every sound around them. When he sensed movement coming from the kitchens, he opened his eyes a crack. The ominous form of a man carrying a sword and bucket emerged. Hardi watched the man turn toward the passageway where guards still lined the walls. Hardi eased Blair from his side, but her eyes sprang open.
“Stay here,” Hardi whispered against her ear. “If ye hear a whistle, get everyone into as many storerooms as ye can, and tell them to use the tables and benches inside as barricades. Ye must get to the solar as soon as ye can. If I whistle, it’s because we’re aboot to be overrun.”
“What’s happening?”
“I dinna ken for sure, but I think I’m aboot to discover our traitor. I love ye,” Hardi pressed a quick, hard kiss to Blair’s forehead.
“I love ye,” she whispered back. She watched Hardi cross the Great Hall, his sword drawn. He moved like a wraith--light on his feet and stealthy. She slipped through the sleeping clan members, taking a place along a wall closer to the passageway. She wouldn’t venture down it, but she would make certain she could hear Hardi if he signaled. She held a dirk in each hand as she closed her eyes once more. She was alert, no longer tired. With her eyes closed, she found her sense of hearing was sharper. She sat, still as a statue, and waited.
Forty-Nine
Hardi crept along the passageway, the shadowy figure several feet ahead of him. He watched as the man stopped before the doorway to the storeroom being guarded. Hardi watched in horror as the shadow thrust his arm forward. There was a bellow, but then all fell silent. The men on guard scrambled to their feet as Hardi charged past them. He entered the storeroom and realized immediately that there were only two guards—now dead—in the room where he’d posted five men earlier that evening. An overpowering odor hit him as he watched the man pour liquid from a bucket over the hatch. Hardi recognized the smell of lye and knew the traitor was trying to dissolve the tar. The scrape of metal against the ground confirmed Hardi’s suspicion.
With tools aplenty, it wasn’t hard for the mystery man to seize a chisel and hammer. Hardi launched himself at the perpetrator before the unknown man swung the hammer. They crashed to the floor. Hardi didn’t try to learn who the lumbering form was. He rained down his fists on the man’s temples as he thrashed underneath Hardi. He tried to buck Hardi off of him, but Hardi weighed more and was positioned to control his opponent. Hardi wrapped one hand around the man’s throat, making his adversary gag, and his other hand covered the traitor’s mouth and nose. When the man stopped flailing, but before he suffocated, Hardi came to his feet and dragged the unconscious man with him.
Guards took the man to Hardi’s solar, and he called out to Blair. She ran to him as he reached the solar’s door. They each took a torch handed to them. Blair stoked the fire while Hardi lit candles. The unconscious form lay barely moving on the table. Hardi carried his torch to where he could finally see the man’s face.
“Osgar?” Hardi was incredulous. He never imagined Osgar would betray him. He glanced toward the door as Paul entered, but stumbled to a stop when he recognized Osgar’s beaten face. Paul’s eyes mirrored the shock Hardi was certain was evident in his own gaze. It stunned Hardi to have Osgar stretched out before him when he’d suspected Paul. After all, he was the one who warned Hardi not to trust anyone and implied that his own warriors were against him, even though Dunn assured him of the opposite. He wouldn’t set aside his doubts about Paul, no matter how the man acted. Hardi spoke to the room at large. “Get me a bucket of water.”
“Osgar is behind this?” Paul murmured as he came to stand near Blair and Hardi. “But why?”
“That’s what I hope to find out when he comes to,” Hardi spat.
Hardi poured a bucket of icy water over the unconscious man, who came to spluttering and thrashing. Hardi drove his fist into Osgar’s belly, and the drenched man settled as he wheezed. As he became more aware of his surro
undings, Blair watched Osgar’s eyes harden as he sneered.
“Ye think tarring a hatch closed will stop two hundred men. Ye’re the fool I always kenned ye to be,” Osgar smirked.
“If the tar doesnae work, then the wall I had built just within the entrance will hold them back. Nae to mention the dirt that now fills the other end. Ye sent two hundred men to their deaths,” Hardi stated with cold-hearted detachment.
“What?” Osgar stammered.
“Did ye think that if I found one end of the tunnel I wouldnae find the other? Did ye think nay one would notice the dirt left behind? Thank ye for that.”
“Ye fucking bastard, I will—” Osgar was interrupted by hammering at the door. “Alas, yer plan is a failure, just as ye are.”
“Enter,” Hardi called. Richard pushed open the door, but froze as he looked around the chamber. His eyes flitted across everyone standing before resting on Osgar. Richard didn’t look surprised, and it sent a shiver down Blair’s back.
“Artair is dead, and Lady Robena has had her bairn,” Richard explained. He didn’t take his eyes of Osgar. “And it’s a lass.”
“Fucking shite. What good will a daughter do me?” Osgar snarled. Every eye in the chamber had already been on Osgar, but many of those same eyes widened as they heard his words.
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