A Highlander Forged In Fire (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “And all the while, we are standing here idly doing’ nothin’. What is the Laird doin’ to rescue his daughter? Why has no raidin’ party been sent out?” Fraser asked, his voice rising to a fever pitch.

  “What can we dae? They killed half our men, and if ye think we can just march out to the Musgrave castle and knock at the door, then ye are a fool, Fraser,” Sweeney replied. “There is nae hope in an armed assault, not when we have such little strength. ‘Tis a raidin’ party that is needed, but it will take time to organize such a thing, and the Laird is nae thinkin’ straight. He has just lost his daughter. ”

  “Then someone else must rescue her. We cannae wait for men to be rallied and ride across the border. We must act now,” Fraser said, turning towards the castle.

  “And who dae ye propose for such a foolish mission, ye? Ye are a blacksmith, nae a soldier. What hope dae ye have?” Sweeney said, shaking his head.

  But Fraser had already resolved to do what no one else seemed capable of doing, and he began marching towards Kirklinton, as Sweeney ran beside him.

  “I will rescue Isla. ‘Tis nae just a matter of brawn. I care about her, Sweeney, and I will nae see her in the hands of those Musgraves,” Fraser said.

  “And ye think her father doesnae care about her? He will nae welcome ye, Fraser MacGinn. I can assure ye of that,” Fraser said, as they approached the castle.

  “Get out of my way, Sweeney. Ye are nothin’ but a hindrance,” Fraser said, his mind and heart set on rescuing Isla from the clutches of the Musgraves.

  He had no fear of Alistair Elliott, not anymore, and he refused to believe that the Laird would not welcome his assistance in rescuing his daughter. What possible prejudice could prevent him from doing so? Sweeney did not follow Fraser but remained standing in the stable yard, as the blacksmith made his way to the door of the castle.

  Two soldiers stood either side, but Fraser simply told them he was there to see the Laird about some swords he was making, and the two men, already wearied by the fighting of the night before, let him pass. It was the first time that Fraser had been inside the castle, and he made his way cautiously up the stairs towards the hall. Voices were coming from inside, and as Fraser approached, they became heated.

  “So, ye will just ride north again and let this clan take the full force of the next English attack. Ye are a coward, Wilson,” Alistair Elliott could be heard shouting.

  “‘Tis too much bloodshed. I have always said this place was too far south. Let the English have it and leave in peace,” a voice replied.

  “And then they shall be on yer border, Wilson, think on that, and it will be yer daughter they take next time,” Alistair replied.

  “And I am sorry for that, Alistair, but I cannae allow more blood to be spilled on these moorlands. Nae when we are under attack on so many different sides,” the other replied, and Fraser leaped back as the door was opened and a man he had never seen before strode down the stairs.

  “I wouldnae try askin’ for anythin’, lad,” he said, turning to Fraser, who looked fearfully into the hall.

  He waited a moment, wondering if now that the Laird was alone and the man addressed as Wilson was gone that he would be accepted. He stepped furtively over the threshold. A fire was burning in the hearth, and the Laird sat with his back to the door, fondling the head of one of the dogs. The animal growled as Fraser stepped forward, and Alistair Elliott’s hand went to his sword, as he turned and looked at Fraser in surprise.

  “I thought I told ye nae to come here anymore,” Alistair said quietly, his face set in anger.

  “Laird, I heard about Isla, and I have come to offer ye my help in rescuin’ her. I am prepared to leave immediately and dae whatever it takes to see her returned to ye, I will …” Fraser began.

  “Ye will dae nothin’ of the sort, ye hear me, nothin’,” the Laird shouted, causing the dog to cower away from him.

  “But sir, I … yer daughter and I …. We have become close, and I know that ye forbade it, but she and I have come to know each other better. I cannae help how I feel for her and how she feels for me. I care for her deeply, and I cannae bear to think of her in the clutches of those wicked men. Please, ye must allow me to try,” Fraser said.

  “And what precisely dae ye think I feel? She is my daughter, and I forbade her from speakin’ with ye, did I nae? The two of ye have betrayed that, and I ought to have ye put in stocks and flogged. Isla will be rescued, and when she is, I promise that ye will never see her again. Now get out of my sight!” Alistair cried, rising from his place and rushing at Fraser who recoiled.

  The Laird took him by his arm and threw him out of the door, the dogs barking around him excitedly.

  “But sir, please. Why dae ye hate me so much?” Fraser said as he fell hard onto the flagstone floors of the corridor.

  But Alistair Elliott made no answer and slammed the door behind him with a loud bang as the dogs continued to bark, and Fraser stumbled to his feet. He had no intention of abandoning Isla, and whether Alistair liked it or nor not, he was determined to assist in her rescue. Dusting himself off, he walked back down the stairs, his sword arm aching where he had fallen upon it.

  “Well, what did the Laird say?” Sweeney said when Fraser met him in the courtyard a few moments later.

  “What dae ye think? He was nae happy,” Fraser replied.

  “Aye, I am nae surprised. Ye were a fool to even ask him,” Sweeney said, walking alongside Fraser down the track towards the village.

  “Will ye keep me informed of what is happenin’?” Fraser asked. “I want to know when the raidin’ party will set out, and I want to know anything ye can tell me about the Musgrave castle.”

  “Well, I have never been there, and if the Laird catches me talkin’ to ye about anythin’, let alone the raidin’ party ‘tis I who will be banished alongside ye. Ye must dae this alone now, Fraser. I have done my part,” Sweeney said, and shaking his head, he left Fraser alone on the path.

  Fraser sighed and continued walking the lonely road back to the village. The hawk was still hovering overhead, and he stood watching it for a few moments before it dived down for its prey. They never hunt in packs, he thought to himself, watching as the bird rose gracefully up into the sky, its talons clasped about some small creature which it had taken for its prey. There was only ever one hawk, and it relied on a single moment of surprise to achieve its goal. Fraser knew that a raid upon the Musgrave castle would never work, and if the Laird wished to die in vain, then he was welcome to mount one.

  Any rescue mission would need careful planning and would not necessarily be achieved through force alone. Fraser was determined to be the one who rescued Isla, and as he returned to the workshop that afternoon, a plan was beginning to form in his mind. First though, he needed to know what he was up against. When Duncan had gone to bed that night, he slipped out from the cottage and mounted one of the horses whose shoes he had shod that day and ride up the track, away from the village.

  * * *

  It did not take long for Fraser to arrive at the sight of the previous night’s battle. There were bodies strewn callously about, and an unpleasant smell hung in the air as Fraser dismounted and looked in horror about him.

  He had never seen a battle like this before, and he crossed himself, trying to ward off whatever evil now hung across the lifeless battlefield. The moon was obscured behind a cloud, but as it emerged, the full horror of what had taken place there could be seen. He counted almost a hundred bodies, and it was certain that there were many more, and as he picked his way through them, he found himself face to face with men he had known since childhood.

  “A terrible thing,” he said to himself as he came among the fallen English.

  They, too, had suffered considerable losses, despite their armor and superior weaponry. Fraser stooped down to look in the face of one soldier who could not have been much older than his own brother, and shaking his head, he walked on. This was a sorry business indeed, and on the other side
of the battlefield, he tethered the horse up and patted its mane.

  “Ye wait here. I shall nae be long,” he said as the horse whinnied.

  Fraser had always found the company of animals, particularly horses, far preferable to those of his fellow man, and looking back across the sea of bodies, he knew why. His objective was the Musgrave castle, not to rescue Isla that evening, but in the hope that he might learn something of the place which would be of use in forming a rescue plan.

  He was still amazed by his own bravery, for such actions were quite out of character for a lad who, until recently, had believed his life would be entirely concerned with the blacksmith’s arts. He was no soldier, a fact which Alistair Elliott’s words had so reminded him of, but what he lacked in tactical skills, he more than made up for in resolve. Fraser was resolved to rescue Isla, and he was the sort of person who, once their heart was set upon something, would not rest until it was achieved.

  Now, he walked cautiously across the moorlands towards the castle. It would take him an hour or two on foot, and he stumbled several times in the darkness, the moon only occasionally revealing itself from behind the clouds, bathing the landscape in its pale, white light. Fraser kept his wits about him, expecting at any moment to be set upon by English soldiers. But the border was quiet tonight, and it seemed that both sides had had their fill of conflict. For now, at least.

  Fraser had rarely made this walk before, and certainly, he had never had cause to visit the castle of the Musgraves. But he knew the path well enough, for it was one often described to him by those who came to have their horses seen to. As he crossed the border, he stepped off the path into the scrubby trees on one side, fearful lest any other traveler be on the road that night. Creeping along the tree line, he came in sight of the castle, some of its windows still lit despite the late hour.

  The trees ran down from the border almost to the castle itself, and he followed the path down until he commanded a good view of the walls. It appeared impenetrable, the battlements rising high above him, and at its center, a large keep with turrets on each corner. Above the walls ran a series of windows, the rooms built into the roof space, and in one, there burned a light, faint and flickering in the darkness.

  Fraser wondered where Isla was being held. Had those cruel Musgraves thrown her in a dungeon, or was she at least treated with some dignity? He could see several soldiers patrolling the ramparts, and he counted their numbers and movements as the night wore on. The guards appeared to patrol every half hour or so, a window of opportunity that would give ample time for any break-in, had the walls not been so formidable and the gates so thick. There was no way that Fraser could scale them, and he shook his head sadly, his earlier enthusiasm now waning.

  If he could not gain entry to the castle, then how could he ever hope to rescue Isla? It had all seemed far simpler before, and he realized that his romantic notions of rescue were quite different from the reality he now faced. Isla was in there, and he was outside. She may as well have been halfway across the world for all the hope he had in rescuing her. But neither would a raid upon the castle bear any fruit. If Alistair Elliott believed that an attack could rescue his daughter, then he would need an army far greater than he possessed to accomplish it. The Musgrave castle could easily withstand any siege that the Scots could mount against it, and Fraser now realized how the two sides had existed in such proximity to the other for all these years.

  The English had hidden away in their castle, only attacking when they knew they could win, and the Scots had not dared mount an assault upon the Musgraves, knowing full well that the castle was so well defended that any raid would be hopeless. But Fraser was determined not to give in yet, and as dawn began to break, he watched intently for any sign of weakness in the castle’s defenses.

  * * *

  He had almost fallen asleep in the dewy grass when the sound of a cart trundling past awoke him. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the driver was whistling some tune or other to himself as the cart passed within a few yards of where Fraser was lying hidden in the trees.

  It was carrying something covered over by a blanket, and Fraser realized they were apples, for several fell out as the cart went over a bump. The driver flicked the horses with his whip, and they turned towards the castle, while Fraser watched with interest to see what would happen next.

  “Apples for the store and there are more to come,” the driver said as one of the guards on the gate stepped forward and raised his hand.

  “Apples? Good, I have been wanting an apple for some time. Take your cart inside. They will unload it later. The servants in the kitchens have not yet begun their work,” the guard replied, nodding to the driver and signaling for the gates to be opened.

  “And there are more to come, though it will be two days from hence before I return from the south,” the driver said, and Fraser smiled, as the cart trundled through the gates.

  He waited for it to emerge, but it was around an hour later when it did so, the cart behind the horse now empty.

  “I have wasted an hour waiting for this cart to be unloaded,” the driver complained to the guard, who just laughed.

  “Then you must tell Sir Percy to have his staff hurry up next time,” the guard replied, slapping one of the horse’s flanks and causing it to whinny.

  “On second thought, perhaps I shall just enjoy the rest next time. See you in two days,” the driver said, laughing as he clicked to the horses, and they rode out of the gates.

  By now, Fraser had seen enough to know precisely what he intended to do, and crawling back into the trees, he ran back along the track, back to where his horse was tethered, glancing behind him lest anyone should have seen him. It seemed simple enough. In two days, he would return to the castle and await the arrival of the apple cart. It would not be hard to secrete himself beneath the blanket with the apples, and once inside, he would … well, that was still to be seen. But if the unloading did not take place immediately, then he was sure to be able to slip unseen into the keep and search for Isla.

  It was a bold and dangerous plan, but Fraser knew that if he did not do something, then he would regret it for the rest of his days. He had never had such feelings for a lass before, and their intensity had quite taken him by surprise, though they delighted him in equal measure. But he knew that those feelings were reciprocated, and he wondered if even now Isla was inside the castle, thinking of him, as he was of her. Whether Alistair Elliott liked it or not, Fraser was determined to do anything he could to rescue Isla from the Musgraves and prove that he was worthy of her affections and the acceptance of her father.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Where have ye been, brother?” Duncan cried as Fraser entered the cottage some hours later.

  He was disheveled, and his clothes were muddy from lying in the undergrowth, but he had a grim look about him and made no reply to Duncan until he had warmed himself by the fire.

  “I was across the border, observing the castle of the Musgraves,” he replied, as though it was as simple a matter as shodding a horse or hammering out a sword.

  Duncan looked at him in disbelief, shaking his head.

  “So, I am nae allowed to make the walk to Lanercost for fear of English soldiers, but ye can cross the border and walk right up to the door of the Musgraves and knock, can ye?” he said, his voice indignant.

  “I was careful, Duncan. Nae one saw me, but I learned a great deal from goin’ there, and I have a plan to rescue Isla,” Fraser replied, cutting a loaf from the bread which Duncan had bought the day before.

  “To rescue her? What madness is that? Ye cannae rescue her. Leave that to the Laird. She is his daughter,” Duncan said, a look of utter disbelief upon his face.

  “The Laird doesnae have the manpower to dae so. There will be nae rescue attempt until he can gather enough men, and even then, they dinnae stand a chance against the Musgraves. The walls of the castle are tall and thick, the gates are barred and guarded, but I have a plan to get in, and on
ce I am in, I can find Isla and rescue her,” Fraser replied.

  “Or be killed when ye are discovered. ‘Tis folly, Fraser. Ye can nae more rescue her than I can, and what plan dae ye have to get in? Ye have just said the gates are barred and the walls high. I dinnae ken how ye could be so stupid as to cross the border and walk right up to the walls,” Duncan said, his anger clearly rising. “‘Tis I who am the rash one; ye are usually far more measured and thoughtful. What has come into ye?”

  “The plan is simple, Duncan. This morning I saw an apple cart entering the castle, and I overheard the merchant speakin’ to the guards. He is to return there in two days. I will hide under the blanket that covers the apples, and wait until I am inside. They take some time to unload the apples, and I will sneak out and make my way inside,” Fraser said, a question of doubt arising in his own mind, as he repeated the plan to his brother.

  It had all seemed so simple before, but Duncan just shook his head and laughed.