Now that the ramifications were beginning to sink in she realised that, some time soon, he would have to be told about her betrothal. It was going to be a tricky conversation but now that he was laird it couldn’t be avoided. She glanced at Ban. They needed to talk but with so many of Murdo’s men present it wasn’t the time or the place. Moreover, now that the day was wearing on, she could think about leaving the men to continue their drinking alone. The wake would likely continue through the night.
By now she would have expected the effect of ale and mead consumption to be making itself apparent in the men’s speech and behaviour, but, oddly, none of them gave any sign of being drunk. The conversation was unusually muted too, yet underneath it the atmosphere seemed tense, almost as though they were waiting for something. Perhaps they were waiting for her to leave so that the carousing could start in earnest. She looked at Hugh. However, just then he was engaged in conversation with the master-at-arms. The two walked apart a little way, heads together, Murdo’s hand resting lightly on his companion’s shoulder.
Suddenly Hugh’s eyes widened in an expression of shocked disbelief, his breath caught on a choking gasp. Isabelle frowned. Then Murdo stepped back and she saw the dagger plunged deep in her brother’s side. For several moments Hugh hung on its point before his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor as a dark stain spread across his tunic. Isabelle screamed.
‘No!’
She flew across the room, falling to her knees beside Hugh, frantically trying to discover some sign of life. He didn’t move, his eyes staring up at her unseeing as blood pooled on the floor. As the realisation hit her Isabelle screamed again, a long keening howl of horror and despair.
Ban leapt to his feet and lunged at Murdo. ‘You treacherous bastard!’
Before he could reach his target he was seized from behind. In spite of furious resistance he was swiftly overpowered and the edge of a blade held against his throat. He regarded Murdo with contempt.
‘Why do you hesitate?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve murdered one man in cold blood. One more can make no difference to you.’
‘I’m tempted, believe me, but it may serve me better to leave you alive, for now.’ Murdo looked at his men. ‘Take him to the small storeroom and lock him in. His men too. I’ll deal with them later.’
White-faced, Isabelle looked on helplessly as Ban was dragged from the room. Then she turned to Murdo.
‘Murderer! Traitor!’
He regarded her impassively for a moment, then spoke to her captor. ‘Take her to the bower and post a guard on the door.’
Strong hands seized hold of her and hauled her to her feet. Isabelle shrieked and fought but to no avail. Seconds later she was lifted bodily off the floor and carried from the room.
* * *
Ban’s captors dragged him to the cellar and shoved him in, locking the door behind him. It was iron-bound oak. The walls and floor were of stone, the only light source a small, barred window. Anger burned hot and for a while he paced, trying to take in the enormity of what had happened. Just then he had no fear for himself. All concern was reserved for Isabelle. With her brother slain her situation was perilous indeed. It needed no seer to tell him what Murdo intended.
He was distracted from these thoughts by the sound of footsteps. Then the door opened again and his three companions were thrust into the room. Judging from their dishevelled appearance and Ewan’s cut lip they hadn’t come quietly. Jock eyed Ban speculatively.
‘Are you all right, my lord?’
‘Aye, well enough,’ he replied, ‘but Lord Hugh is dead.’
‘Dead? How?’
They listened in dumbfounded silence as Ban supplied the details. Jock swore softly.
‘So that bastard Murdo is in charge now.’
Ban nodded. ‘He’ll claim Castlemora for himself, and the Lady Isabelle with it.’
‘And we can do naught to prevent it. God’s blood!’
Davy looked at Ban. ‘Will Murdo have us killed, my lord?’
‘If he intended that he’d have done it by now,’ said Ban. ‘I doubt he’d be so stupid. If he slays us he draws the wrath of Glengarron down on his head.’
‘Aye,’ said Jock, ‘and even Murdo would hesitate to cross Black Iain.’
‘No one in his right mind would do that,’ agreed Davy, ‘and yon shaven-headed villain is no one’s fool.’ He paused. ‘So what is he planning to do with us?’
Ban shook his head. ‘I expect we’ll find out soon enough.’
* * *
Isabelle sat alone, too stunned even to cry. She had no idea how long it was until the door opened to admit Nell, whose sombre expression revealed that she knew some of what had passed. It did not take long to relate the rest. The old nurse heard her in shocked disbelief.
‘Shall a usurper murder the rightful laird and steal his land and title?’ she asked then.
‘He has done it,’ replied Isabelle. ‘Nothing can stop him now.’
‘What of Lord Ban and the men from Glengarron?’
‘Locked up. Besides, what could four do against forty?’ It had been her dread that Ban might attempt something rash in that way. Murdo already disliked him and, given sufficient reason, might well change his mind about keeping him alive.
‘Even so,’ Nell continued, ‘you are not without friends. Murdo and his henchmen are hated by the old servants, and by the local people.’
‘He will kill anyone who is caught helping me.’
Before Nell could reply the door opened again and a familiar figure appeared on the threshold. Isabelle rose, dry-throated, darting a look at Nell. Murdo followed it, fixing the nurse with a level gaze.
‘Leave us.’
The tone was quiet, but neither woman was deceived by its apparent mildness. Reluctantly Nell withdrew, closing the door behind her. With pounding heart Isabelle faced her visitor.
‘What do you want, Murdo?’
‘We need to talk.’
‘I have nothing to say to you. Do you think I wish to speak to my brother’s killer?’
‘I regret the deed,’ he replied, ‘but Hugh was in my way.’
‘You regret nothing! You killed him in cold blood.’
‘The end justifies the means.’
‘Nothing justifies what you have done.’
‘Castlemora justifies it,’ he replied. ‘I have served it well these many years.’
‘This deed cancels all that went before, Murdo.’
‘No, Isabelle. This deed ratifies all the rest.’
‘You won’t get away with it.’
‘And who will call me to account?’ he asked.
Sick at heart she closed her eyes a moment for she knew the answer only too well. As if he read her mind Murdo nodded.
‘I am Laird of Castlemora now.’
‘You are a usurper, nothing more. You have no claim to the title.’
‘I beg to differ. I not only claim it but will back my claim with force if need be.’
Isabelle fought to control rising terror as she recognised the truth of his words and the ramifications began to sink in.
‘I am the Laird of Castlemora,’ he continued, ‘and you will be its lady.’
‘I will never agree to that.’
‘I’d prefer to have your consent but it isn’t indispensable to me.’
Her hands clenched. ‘How dare you?’
‘There’s much I’d dare to have you. I thought at one time that you were lost but then fate delivered you back to me. I only wonder that the Neils could be such fools.’ He paused. ‘Of course, there is still the matter of your dowry. I mean to settle the matter with them—in due course.’
‘Has there not been enough killing?’ she demanded.
‘The Neils are thieves. They will return what they stole or pay the price for it.’
‘The price is too high. Forget about the gold.’
‘I shall not forget, nor will I allow them to forget.’
‘It doesn’t matter now.’
‘I think it does.’
Her stomach churned. She had never particularly liked the Neils but she could not sanction this. It could only end one way.
‘Is there nothing you wouldn’t do to achieve your ambition?’
‘Nothing, Isabelle.’ He paused. ‘Now it is almost done. Only one obstacle remains.’
She felt suddenly cold as another implication dawned. ‘If you kill Lord Ban you will draw down the wrath of Glengarron.’
‘Castlemora is strong enough to take on Glengarron at need. However, the Saxon thane is no threat to me now.’
‘Then you will let him and his men leave unharmed?’
‘They can have their lives for all I care.’
The relief occasioned by these words was partially obscured by the knowledge that Murdo might well be lying. She had to hope that he would see the good political sense of leaving Ban and his men alive. If anything happened to them on her account she could never forgive herself. At the back of her mind was the thought that, once free, they could get help.
‘Glengarron is no stay to me and by the time Lord Ban gets back there my position will be fully consolidated, because by then we shall be married.’
Her stomach churned. ‘I’ll never agree to wed you. I’d rather be dead than marry a traitorous upstart.’
His expression was chilling. ‘Perhaps so, but the upstart will take you to his bed tomorrow anyway. In the meantime you will remain in here. Don’t try any tricks, Isabelle. Your destiny is to be my wife. The sooner you accept that the better.’
‘I will never accept it.’
‘You have no choice, my lady.’ He came closer, looking into her face. She tried to look away but a hand under her chin prevented it. ‘You belong to me.’
Isabelle made no move though her cheeks were ashen. Tears welled in her eyes. Murdo saw them and his smile grew mocking.
‘Ah, there now; you have no need to weep. Submit to me and your life will not be unpleasant.’ The smile faded and his gaze bored into hers. ‘Do anything else and I’ll teach you the meaning of fear.’
* * *
That evening Ban and his men were taken from their prison under guard and escorted to the courtyard. Their horses were saddled and waiting. Hard by a dozen armed men were mounted and ready to ride. Murdo waited, looking on as the prisoners crossed the intervening space. They halted a few feet away.
‘Planning to take us somewhere quiet and slit our throats?’ said Ban.
Murdo smiled. ‘A tempting prospect, but no, on the contrary; I’m letting you go.’
The Glengarron retainers exchanged glances, their expression suggestive of deep scepticism. It didn’t pass unnoticed.
‘I meant it. I’ll even provide you with some food for the journey. Then you will be escorted off Castlemora land, and your weapons will be returned. After that you are free to go where you will.’
‘We’ll return with an armed force.’
‘To what end? You cannot get back in time to prevent my marriage to Lady Isabelle, and when that is done my claim to Castlemora is complete. Nothing can change it and Black Iain will not waste time and men on what cannot be altered.’
At the mention of Isabelle’s name, Ban’s anger surged, along with dread for what might happen to her now. He controlled it with an effort, although the image of Hugh’s body loomed large in his memory.
‘If you harm her there won’t be a corner of hell for you to hide in.’
‘The lady will come to no harm,’ replied Murdo, ‘provided that you ride out of here and never return. Any attempt to wrest her from me by force might have unfortunate consequences.’
Ban’s eyes blazed but he was powerless and knew it. In fuming silence he and his men mounted their horses. Murdo raised his hand in a mock salute.
‘Farewell, my lord. I hope we never meet again.’
The escort closed around its prisoners and the whole cavalcade moved forwards.
Isabelle stood at her casement and, with a sinking heart, watched them go.
* * *
When the cavalcade reached the borders of the Castlemora lands, it halted. Ban exchanged glances with his men and then watched impassively while their weapons were tossed in a heap on the ground. The leader of the mercenary escort turned towards him.
‘You’re free to go.’ His lip curled. ‘If you’ll take my advice you won’t come back.’
With that he turned his horse’s head and spoke to his companions. They smiled in derision at the Glengarron retainers and then spurred away. For a moment or two Ban watched them leave. Then he dismounted and retrieved his sword and dagger. The others followed suit in angry silence. When at length they were armed once more Jock looked at Ban.
‘So what next, my lord?’
‘I’m going back.’
‘Right now? You’re no serious?’
‘Never more so. I’ll not leave my w—er, Lady Isabelle to Murdo’s tender mercies. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. Besides, Glengarron is sworn to protect her.’
Jock nodded. ‘Fair enough, but we need more men. Should we no go for reinforcements first?’
‘We couldn’t get there and back in time. Murdo was right. It’s why he let us go. He thinks we’re no threat.’
‘Aye, and he’s likely right about that too.’
‘I don’t ask you to come with me,’ replied Ban.
‘You’ll no go back alone to that nest of vipers.’
‘I must.’
Jock folded his arms across his chest. ‘If you go, we all go.’
Ewan and Davy nodded. The younger man was pale with anger and he met Ban’s eye in a level gaze.
‘No one tosses me my sword and dirk and then commands me to run.’
‘Damned right,’ said Ewan.
Their resolution was unmistakable and Ban knew that further argument would be a waste of time. ‘Very well then,’ he replied. ‘We all go.’
* * *
They took a circuitous route back and, unwilling to advertise their presence, tethered the horses among the trees on the hillside above Castlemora. From their vantage point Ban studied the fortified manor house. It seemed quiet with little evidence of life. Once he would have found the stillness peaceful: now it seemed ominous. He had to hope that Murdo hadn’t harmed Isabelle. On balance he suspected not. The bastard’s intentions there had seemed plain enough but if he thought to keep her he was much mistaken. Ban’s jaw tightened.
He turned back to his men. ‘I’m going down there.’
Jock raised an eyebrow. ‘I? Don’t you mean we?’
‘It’s going to be dangerous.’
‘Is it really? In that case ye’ll be needing someone tae cover your back, won’t ye?’
‘I would not ask you to risk your lives in this cause.’
‘Your cause is our cause,’ replied Jock. ‘Besides, why should we let youse have all the fun?’
The other two murmured agreement, their faces assuming expressions that Ban had come to recognise very well. He made a last-ditch attempt.
‘Think of the odds, man.’
‘I’d rather not,’ said Jock, ‘so if we’re done arguing we’ll just go and fetch Lady Isabelle out of there, shall we? Then we can be on our way.’
More murmurs of agreement followed this. Ban threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
‘All right, you win. Jock, you and Ewan will come with me. Davy, be ready here with the horses. We may need to make a quick escape.’
No one remarked on the fact that one of the animals would have to carry a double burden because the lady would have no mount.
‘If we’re not back within the hour it’ll likely mean something’s gone wrong,’ said Ban. ‘You must get away, Davy, and see that word reaches Glengarron.’
‘Aye, my lord.’
Ban clapped the lad on the shoulder and then, followed by Jock and Ewan, he made his way to the edge of the trees and thence across a space of open ground to vault the orchard wall. Once they were acr
oss it the fruit trees screened their movements and they came unopposed to the edge of the courtyard. From the direction of the hall they could hear voices and raucous laughter.
‘They’re at table,’ murmured Ban. ‘Come on.’
They ran to the rear of the women’s bower, concealing themselves in the shadows by the wall. A glance round the corner revealed a guard by the door. Ewan put his head round the corner.
‘Psst!’
The guard looked round at once, frowning. Ewan beckoned frantically. The man put a hand on his sword hilt and came to investigate. As he rounded the end of the building there was a stifled exclamation followed by a thud. Ban surveyed the body in grim satisfaction and then looked at his companions. Together they headed for the door.
He opened it an inch and peered inside. In the passageway beyond he made out two more men. Clearly the element of surprise was going to be short-lived. After that everything depended on being able to overpower the guards before they were able to raise the alarm.
Turning to his companions he lifted his hand, raising his fingers to indicate the number of men within and pointing in the appropriate direction. Then, quietly, he slid his sword free of the scabbard. The others followed suit. He gestured for Ewan to remain where he was. Then flinging the door open, Ban and Jock hurtled into the passageway. The first guard reached for his sword but was cut down before the blade cleared leather. The second had enough time to free his weapon and, with an ear-splitting yell, launch himself at Jock. Ban swore softly. Leaving Jock to deal with the guard he opened the inner door of the bower.
‘Isabelle?’
‘Ban!’ She stared at him incredulously. ‘You came back.’
‘Did you doubt it?’
‘I thought I’d never see you again.’
‘I don’t give up that easily.’
There came a groan from the passageway and the clash of swords ceased. Jock put his head round the door.
‘I hate tae interrupt but we need to get out of here. In another two minutes this place is going to be swarming.’
Ban nodded then looked at Isabelle. ‘Come with me?’
Joanna Fulford Page 11
