Lion's Lady

by Suzanne Barclay

  Rowena's fingers grew raw from working the knife in the lock, but she could not open it. Depressed, she sank down on the bed beside her friend.

  "What now?" Glenda asked glumly.

  Before Rowena could reply, the tent flap was flung aside and Alexander strode in, still clad in his mail. His glittering eyes passed over Glenda and pounced on Rowena. "Ah, Georas said he'd captured you. Good. Good. It seems we will take that bastard traitor sooner than I'd hoped." He shucked off his leather gauntlets and tossed them onto a pile of dirty dishes. "You there." He snapped his fingers at Glenda. "Make yourself useful and get me out of this cursed mail."

  Glenda stood at once.

  Rowena grabbed hold of her hand. "You do not have to."

  "But I want to." Glenda's muddy brown eyes held an odd, almost triumphant light. Smiling, she went to the earl. "If you will bend, sir." As he leaned over from the waist, she took hold of the collar of his mail shirt and tugged.

  The garment of interlocked metal links slid slowly off over his head.

  Like a snake shedding its skin, Rowena thought.

  Glenda deftly caught it before it hit the ground. Turning, she deposited the mail on the bed beside Rowena. "We will see this cleaned for you."

  Not I, Rowena was about to say, but the intensity of her friend's expression stopped her. What was Glenda about?

  The earl, clad in his long saffron shirt and padded gambeson, flexed his shoulders. "Mmm. Better." Turning his back on them, he snatched up a crumpled length of Stewart plaid and kilted it around his body.

  "Do you sup with us, my lord?" Glenda inquired sweetly.

  "What?" Alexander's eyes narrowed. "Nay. I thought I made it plain that what was between us is ended. You and Lady Rowena will stay here the night. Come mom, you'll be exchanged for Lion Sutherland."

  "Nay!" Rowena surged off the cot. "I will not let him make such a sacrifice."

  "You? You have no say in the matter," the earl snapped.

  Rowena started forward; Glenda barred her way. "Nay, Rowena, there is nothing you can do."

  "For once the ugly ninny makes sense." He pushed the tent flap aside. "Stay within and cause no trouble. The exchange will take place whether you're the worse for a few bruises or not."

  As soon as Alexander left, Rowena sank back on the cot, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, Lion. I cannot live with this. I cannot."

  Glenda knelt and shook her gently. "Rowena, cease your weeping," she whispered. "I have the key."

  "What? Where?"

  Grinning, Glenda picked through the folds of the mail and withdrew the key, still suspended on its gold chain. "When he demanded I disarm him, I snagged this, as well."

  "Oh, you are the cleverest of women."

  "If I was clever, I'd not have landed us in this mess."

  Rowena sighed, for it was true enough. "Come, we must open the box and take out the letters. If he notices the chain is missing and returns, it must be back with his clothes."

  It took only seconds to unlock the box. Inside was a jumble of plunder, including parchment missives, some rolled, others folded and crumpled. They bore a variety of wax seals.

  "The Campbells' badge is a boar's head," Rowena said.

  "But how will we know what is in these messages?"

  "Lion taught me to read years ago." Rowena ruffled through the correspondence, sorting out the ones bearing the boar's head. The chief of Clan Campbell wrote a fair hand; still it took awhile to find the ones she wanted—six damning messages in all. "You take three and I'll take three." They hid them in their clothing, then replaced the other things in the box and relocked it.

  Glenda tucked the key and chain inside the pile of mail and collapsed in a heap on the bed. "Ah, I feel wonderful."

  Rowena sat beside her, fingering the eagle broach pinned to her shoulder. "The task is only begun. We have the means to bring him down, but we must get the letters into the hands of the king and, most important of all, save Lion."

  "What do you think Alexander will do to him?"

  Rowena shivered, thinking of the two dead Shaws. "I think we must come up with a plan to get away before tomorrow."

  Someone scratched at the tent flap.

  "Who—who is it?" Rowena called out, nervously patting the paper concealed beneath her belt.

  "I've brought ye food and drink," a rough voice replied. At her bidding, a man entered bearing a tray. He wore a coarse tunic, his face obscured by the cowl of his short cloak.

  Rowena set the earl's chain mail on the floor and patted the end of the cot. "Please set it here."

  As the man bent to follow her instructions, Rowena caught a glimpse of a familiar freckled face and shock of red hair. "Who are you?" she whispered.

  "It's Robbie MacNab," he muttered. "We heard you'd been taken, and I had to make certain you were all right."

  "Aye, we are." Rowena hesitated. "Tomorrow Lion will exchange himself for us."

  Robbie's expression hardened. "Aye. The lads and I have racked our brains for a way to save him, but the Wolf's men outnumber us, and we are watched, for he trusts no one."

  "We…we have information that will bring the earl down, but it would take time for it to reach the king, and I fear Lion will be killed the moment he is in the earl's hands."

  "You've found the Campbell letters, then," Robbie murmured. "Lion said they would be our salvation."

  Rowena smiled for the first time in hours. If Lion had confided in Robbie, then he must trust the MacNab. "Shall I give them to you? Can you get them to Edinburgh?"

  "Nay. I think the earl is less likely to search you ladies than he is me. As to getting them away…" He frowned. "MacPhersons and Stewarts guard the perimeter of the camp. They are so numerous and so vigilant, no one can enter or leave without being challenged. The few who have been caught…"

  "We saw them," Glenda said wretchedly.

  "Then we must act tomorrow," Rowena said. "When Lion comes to exchange himself for us, we must turn the tables on Alexander by threatening to expose him if he does not free us all."

  Robbie nodded. "It would require careful timing. Likely Lion will bring with him men to see you back to Glenshee. You and the letters must be safely in their hands before the revelation is made."

  "Aye, but what of Lion? If Alexander has him, he would demand the letters for Lion's life."

  "I told you it would be tricky." Robbie pursed his lips thoughtfully. "A diversion, mayhap, at the moment the exchange is being made…"

  "What kind of diversion?"

  "Leave that to me." Robbie stood and pulled the cowl back up. "Be alert tomorrow, ready to run when I call to you."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dawn was just lighting the sky when Lion stood beside his son's bed, filled with a sense of wonder.

  His son.

  It awed him still that he and Rowena had together created this sunny, witty bairn with such lively eyes and avid curiosity. Paddy slept much as his mother did, on his side, with one hand tucked under his willful little chin.

  This might be the last time Lion saw his son.

  The pain pierced him, sharp and jagged as a lance. It sent him to his knees beside the bed. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch the lad's cheek—so soft, warm and full of life.

  "Mmm." Paddy stirred, eyes opening sleepily. "Hello."

  "Hello yourself." He wanted to seize the lad, to enfold him in his arms and hug him tightly. He wanted to weep and wail and gnash his teeth. But that would only frighten Paddy, so instead he ruffled the mane of tousled red hair. "I did not mean to wake you, lad." Dieu, he wished his father could see Paddy.

  "Did you bring my mother back?"

  Lion shook his head. "Not yet," he said hoarsely.

  "Today, you said. You promised."

  "Aye." Well Lion recalled the vow. Last evening, after making what plans he could to ensure that today's exchange was a success, he had gone to the great hall. There he'd found Paddy surrounded by wary Gunns and anxious Sutherlands.
<
br />   Seemingly oblivious to the adults' tension, the lad had been playing by the hearth with his kitten. The moment he'd spotted Lion, though, he had jumped up and run to him.

  "Is my mama back?" he'd asked.

  "Nay." Lion sank down before him. "She—she…"

  "Finlay said she and Lady Glenda had gone visiting."

  Lion had looked up into the old man's gray face, grateful that the lad had been spared the terrifying truth. "Aye. That she has, so you'll just have to make do with us."

  "Will you play with me?"

  Lion had nodded, his throat so full he couldn't speak. For the rest of the night, he'd been entertained by his son. They'd gone out to visit Lion's warhorse and the new foal Turval had sired. Then Paddy wanted to see Lion's sword.

  "I'm going to have a sword like this when I'm growed up."

  "Aye, you will." Lion had vowed then that he'd leave Avenger behind for Paddy to have when he was older.

  That was only part of the reason he'd come here this morn. He'd come for one last look at his son.

  "What's wrong?" Paddy sat up, brow furrowing.

  "Nothing." Everything.

  "You look like you have the stomachache."

  Nay. Lion's heart hurt so he was amazed it still beat. "I came to bid you goodbye. I am riding out to fetch your mama."

  Paddy smiled. "Good, 'cause I wanna show her Turval and the foal and the mews where the hawks sleep. Can I?"

  "Of course."

  "You can come, too. I like you, 'cause you smile and laugh and are not always telling me to mind my manners."

  "I am glad, because I like you, too." Lion hesitated. "I—I may not be back for a while."

  Paddy frowned, then his eyes widened. "Are you going off to slay evildoers like the knights in Mania's stories?"

  "Aye, that I am," Lion said, smiling faintly. "There are plenty of them abroad these days."

  Paddy scooted onto his knees. "Can I come and help you?"

  "Not this time. I need you to stay here and look after your mama." Lion stood, tears prickling against the backs of his lids. He reached out one last time and stroked his son's cheek. "Take care of her for me."

  "I will," Paddy said cheerfully.

  Lion paused at the door, imprinting on his mind the sight of Paddy in the bed that had been his as a child. Then he fled, taking the stairs to the ground floor at a reckless pace, the tightness in his chest unbearable.

  When Lion reached the courtyard, he found Bryce waiting with fifty mounted men, veterans of the French campaigns. The light from the nearby torches flickered over their grimly determined faces, glinted off the polished armor they wore beneath their dark blue and green Sutherland plaids.

  "Alexander said I was to bring only two men to act as escort for Rowena and Glenda," Lion said.

  Bryce grunted. "I do not trust the earl. Red Will and the rest of the lads will stay back from the meeting site, within calling distance in case there's trouble."

  Lion sighed. "All right, but take no unnecessary chances."

  "I might caution you with the same."

  "I will do what I must to get Rowena free." Lion mounted and wheeled toward the gates.

  Though last night he'd told Bryce he wanted none to know of his mission, word had spread. The baileys, inner and outer, were filled with Sutherlands, a somber, watchful throng come to bid their lord farewell.

  "Lion! Lion!" Micheil shouted, breaking the tension.

  Others called out to him, raising their arms and cheering.

  The wail of the pipes picked up the beat, notes swirling and crashing off the old stone walls.

  Lion's heart swelled, and his spirits lifted. It could not end here. Somehow, some way, he was coming back to them. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment of their faith in him, then spurred toward the gatehouse.

  As they rode out across the drawbridge, he looked back over his shoulder. The sun was just poking its head over the mountains behind the keep, bathing the stern gray fortress in soft pink light. He would survive.

  When he saw Alexander's army drawn up around the clearing picked for the exchange, however, his courage faltered. The Stewart red and black and the MacPherson red and blue were everywhere, swamping the plaids of the MacNabs and Frasers. Even if his friends had been foolish enough to try and help him, they were surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered.

  The circle of MacPhersons was thickest around Rowena and Glenda, whose hands were bound at the wrists. Sword drawn, Georas himself stood behind the women, clearly ready to strike at the first wrong move. Alexander, flanked by Eneas and a dozen bodyguards, was in front and to the left of the hostages.

  "I do not like this," Bryce murmured. "What if Alexander does not honor the white flag we carry?"

  "I am trusting you and Red Will to get the women safely away," Lion answered. At the first sign of treachery, the Sutherlands waiting on the road had orders to move in. "Best get this over with." He urged forward the Highland pony he'd chosen to ride, leaving Turval safely behind at Glenshee.

  As they drew nearer, Rowena's features became more distinct. She was pale, her eyes dark and haunted, but a faint smile played over her mouth.

  Lion's own lips curved in response. Dieu, but she was brave and beautiful, his lady. I love you, he said with his eyes, and her own answered back. Then Lion transferred his gaze to the man he'd come to best.

  Alexander glared at him, his face shadowed by an elaborate helmet topped by golden eagle wings. "You came," he growled as Lion drew rein a short distance away.

  "I could, in honor, do nothing else." He hoped to subtly remind Alexander that he, too, had an obligation to honor the flag of truce and his promise to release the women.

  "Humph. Dismount and bid your men stay back."

  "I will when the women are brought closer to my men."

  "Do you not trust me?" Alexander snapped.

  Lion smiled thinly. "As much as you do me."

  Alexander grunted. With a wave of his gloved hand, he motioned Georas to bring Rowena and Glenda a step nearer.

  "I fear a trap," Bryce whispered.

  "Aye." Casual as a man watching a feast-day play, Lion glanced around. His gut tightened as he marked the sly look Georas sent the nearby MacPhersons, and the surreptitious way Dickie MacPherson slipped the dirk from his belt. From the corner of his eye, Lion saw Eneas Gunn's grin broaden, and the hair at his nape prickled. "Be ready," he muttered to Bryce.

  Lion swung down from the saddle, keeping the sturdy pony between himself and Dickie. "Let the women go to my men."

  "I will say what is to be done," Alexander snarled. Over his shoulder, he called, "Bring them forward."

  Georas prodded the women with the flat of his sword. They stumbled along before him, clinging to each other for support. It killed Lion to remain still when he wanted to rush over and snatch them away from the MacPherson. His breath caught, his heart stopped as he watched Bryce take a step toward them. Another few yards and they would be safe—

  "Seize him," Alexander suddenly roared. "Kill the traitor. Kill them all!"

  The frozen tableau of men came to life. Georas shoved the women to the ground and raised his sword.

  "Nay," Lion cried, surging forward.

  Robbie MacNab was quicker. His knife cut through the air, striking Georas's arm. The man screamed and dropped his weapon.

  "Bryce! To me!" Even as Lion opened his hand to receive the sword Bryce handed him, he saw the MacNabs leap into action.

  Swinging blades from beneath the concealment of their cloaks, they fell on the MacPhersons and Stewarts. The Frasers and Keiths were making war on the Chisholms. Alexander screamed threats and orders, while the Sutherlands joined the fray. Lion's men and his allies fought with a vengeance, but they were outnumbered by the earl's forces.

  Red Will had best hurry, Lion thought as he darted through the melee toward Rowena. She and Glenda were still sprawled on the ground. He reached them just as Georas wrenched the knife from his arm and lifted his sword again. Bl
ood dripping from his hand, he prepared to strike.

  "Nay!" Lion went in low, countering the blow a foot from Rowena's body.

  Georas parried and regrouped. Teeth bared in a curse, he swung at Lion, driving him back with a punishing fury. But Lion knew his opponent's weakness. He thrust, feinted, found the opening and sank his blade in Georas's chest.

  Georas gasped, his own sword clattering to the ground an instant before he slid down to join it.

  "Rowena. Are you all right?" Lion knelt and sliced through her bonds with his dirk.

  "Aye. Terrified, but unhurt. I…" Her eyes widened. "Look out! Behind you!"

  Lion rose and wheeled, sword coming up to counter the downward thrust of Eneas's blade.

  "Bastard!" Eneas fought with less finesse than Georas, but he was not alone. Clem stood with him, shoulder to shoulder, forcing Lion to divide his blows between the two of them.

  Lion danced back, poking and parrying, spinning to counter first one man, then the other. He pricked Clem's arm and drew blood, then took a slice from Eneas's shoulder.

  "Bloody hell," Eneas growled.

  "That is to repay you for trying to have me killed."

  Eneas grunted, his face contorted with pain and hatred. "I wish I had thought of it. Slip behind him," he shouted to Clem. "He cannot cover his back, too."

  "Nay!" Rowena leapt up and drew her eating knife.

  "Ro, for the love of God, stay back," Lion cried as he parried the pair of swords. "Take Glenda and get clear of the fighting before you are injured." He had no time to see if she complied, for the Gunns fought with desperate fury. Their blows reverberated up his arm, numbing it. Sweat dripped into his eyes, his lungs burned. Still he fought on, dimly aware of the clang of steel and hoarse shouts of those around him.

  Finally he managed to get in under Clem's guard, hook his blade and send it spinning away. One quick lunge ended the man's life.

  Growling a curse, Eneas came at Lion's unprotected side, but his deadly swing was brought up short by Bryce's sword. The stroke cleaved Eneas's sword in half and ripped open his chest. Eneas stared at the bloody wound for half a second, then fell to his knees, begging for mercy.

  "Why should we spare you?" Bryce muttered. "You tried time and again to murder Lion."