A Bridge Through The Mist

by Denise A. Agnew

  Tynan knew attempting to get help from a man he’d called enemy only a short time ago verged on madness. Now that he had laid out his plans to Ruthven, when he most needed strength, he felt like the lowest rag-picker. As a knight from an enemy camp, he knew his position was small. Behind him, three guards stood ready to fight him if he made any move they saw as threatening. He’d taken a gamble that could cost his life, Dougald’s life, and the lives of those he held most dear.

  Alenna.

  He must do this for her. To hell with himself. Her safety mattered to him above all things.

  Baron Ruthven waited for an answer.

  Dougald stepped forward when Tynan didn’t speak. "Forgive us, my lord. Our journey has been hard, and laden with foul weather."

  Tynan almost smiled at his friend’s feeble excuse. Both of them had endured far more difficult campaigns than the short jaunt to Duncarval.

  Baron Ruthven gestured to a servant standing at attendance in one corner. "We shall have wine and bread."

  "Ye are most obligin’ my lord," Tynan managed to say, bowing.

  The baron gestured toward a side door. "Let us speak in privacy."

  As they retreated to a side chamber, the baron hung back to give his guards instructions to stay outside the door and permit no one but the servant to enter.

  Once settled in the small antechamber off the great hall, Tynan felt more at ease. A roaring fire in the hearth immediately worked to warm his bones. While not concerned about food, he knew if he didn’t eat he’d be weakened. A smart warrior fueled the fire in his own body to keep strong. If for any reason they needed to fight their way out of the castle, they’d have to be alert.

  "What say ye again to our plan, my lord?" Tynan asked. "Do we assume too much?"

  Baron Ruthven smiled, his grin two parts menace, another part understanding. "You assume much. Though perhaps not enough to sign your death warrant."

  The servant came in with the wine and bread. After he departed, they ate in silence for long minutes. Tynan knew under all that calm resided a steel hard vigilance. He’d seen these traits in many great men. The ones that survived this long, with this much power, didn’t break under strain of any kind.

  "You say you believe him to be mad, and this is why he should be removed from his castle as lord. These are charges for which he could have you executed," Ruthven said.

  "Aye," Dougald said. "We have come to grave times. My woman is in danger, as is Tynan’s woman. No innocent shall be safe from this man’s vile and ungodly ways."

  "Does he speak of the devil as his king?" Ruthven asked, leaning forward. "Say you he is in league with Beelzebub?"

  Tynan shook his head. "Not that we ken, my lord. As we told ye, we believe he killed a woman who was his mistress. Perhaps he has killed more woman." When he saw the baron’s features darken, he pressed his point home. "He has had ten mistresses. We ken that yer daughter was taken from Duncarval several years ago, and that ye believe it was the baron who stole her."

  The baron’s eyes turned icy blue. Cold, penetrating, and deadly. "Aye. She was taken on a journey back from her aunt’s. She had almost reached the castle when her caravan was attacked. All the knights who accompanied her were slaughtered." He leaned forward in his chair and glared at Tynan. "You say you’ve been a knight to MacAulay only four years?"

  "Aye," Tynan said.

  "How did you ken she’d been taken at all, and that it may have been the baron’s doing?"

  Tynan pushed back his wine, aware the gesture could be seen as defiant. "I spoke with many inside the castle I’d trust with my life. Some have been at the castle many years. They said a beautiful woman not more than six-and-ten was brought to MacAulay Castle, nigh on ten years ago. When she came in, she was bloodied and beaten."

  "God’s blood!" Ruthven slammed his hand on the table. The door to the antechamber swung open, and a guard stepped in. Ruthven waved the guard out. "Go on with your tale, MacBrahin."

  "They say her name was Bella, and that she was kind to all she spoke with, though her heart was always far away."

  Ruthven cleared his throat and took a draught of wine before responding. "Mirabella was betrothed to one of the knights killed during her capture. It was a match of love. Many said I was insane to allow such a low born—" Apparently realizing he was forgetting himself, Ruthven stopped cold. "It was not a match I would have approved of, had my daughter not made me see … made me see that some things must be done for love beyond all else."

  Tynan could hardly believe what he heard. Tynan would not have expected a man as hard and as ruthless as Baron Ruthven to have such feelings about love. "Then ye ken why Dougald and I have come to ye. We do this for love."

  He spoke before he could hold back, and this time he recognized the truth of his own words.

  He loved Alenna.

  "My woman is in danger, my lord," Tynan said. "I would do anythin’ to keep her safe. So ye must ken why we do this. Dougald and I are but two knights, and canna overthrow MacAulay on our own."

  Tynan watched as the older man’s expression faded from suspicion to a haunted air. As the reality of what Tynan said pressed in on him, he appeared to shrink into his chair.

  "Aye," Ruthven said, his eyes hard as chips of stone. "Aye. I will help you."

  * * *

  A day and a night drifted away slowly for Alenna, and soon the noise from the outside world beyond the dungeon seemed part of a reality she might never see again.

  Late into the evening, after Johanna fell asleep on the floor, and Clandon lay quiet, Alenna stayed alert. She couldn’t possibly sleep, not knowing what fate had in store for them. Though she tried to be strong, she imagined living out her days in this vermin-infested cell, with disease and suffering her companions. How long could she expect to remain sane?

  Closing her eyes to the darkness, she wrapped her arms around her knees and wished for sleep. At least if she could sleep she would know temporary oblivion and peace. In the cloak of darkness she allowed her tears to flow, hoping they would have a cleansing effect and release stress.

  She cried for Tynan, knowing he must be in terrible danger. What if Ruthven had slaughtered Tynan already?

  All hope was lost if Tynan was dead.

  God help her. She loved him.

  There. She’d finally admitted it. Somehow she had fallen hopelessly in love with a brazen, brawny, barbaric Scot from a different time with a distinct set of rules. Call her a fool, but it had happened. Alenna wanted more than just nights of passion with him, she wanted his love. She knew she had his affection, but she also recognized he’d left his heart with a woman called Mary.

  A sob slipped from her lips, and she covered her mouth with her hands to stifle the sound. Above all things, she knew she had to believe in Tynan and his ability to survive. Intelligent and strong, he would make it through this venture alive. She had to trust that somehow he’d help her, Clandon, and Johanna.

  What of sweet Elizabet? Alenna’s heart clenched painfully, and another sniffle and sob managed to escape her throat. Had Elizabet survived? What of Caithleen?

  Alenna had never made a habit of praying, but she clasped her hands together now and put all her thoughts into wishing they would soon be free and all her friends safe. Exhausted, she dropped into a fitful sleep, where misty dreams danced in her head like vengeful demons.

  As a new day dawned, she woke to strange sounds not a part of the norm in this dreary, death-laden place.

  "Run for yer lives!"

  The shouting from outside the dungeon windows startled her and she jumped to her feet, wishing the tiny window was low enough so that she could see out.

  "Mistress, do ye hear that?" Clandon asked from his cell.

  "Yes."

  Johanna stirred as more shouting broke the morning air.

  "What is happenin’?" Johanna asked as she sat up and brushed her hair back from her face. Dark circles ringed her eyes, making her look like a raccoon.

  The increasing
sounds of commotion outside continued for a good hour, until it became clear the castle had come under attack.

  "Without Tynan here, the castle will fall," Johanna said, wringing her hands like a timorous old lady.

  Alenna couldn’t deny the foot soldiers relied on Tynan for guidance and direction. "This is a large fortress, with many soldiers. Even without Tynan the castle isn’t entirely helpless."

  Clandon laughed. "Mayhap ‘twould be better if it fell."

  "Clandon!" Johanna snapped. "How can ye wish it? If the castle falls, we all die!"

  Hysterical sobs began to issue from Johanna’s lips.

  Alenna grabbed her arms and shook her gently. "Johanna, please. I realize you’re afraid, but we have to be ready to defend ourselves."

  "With what?" Johanna wailed.

  Alenna looked around their barren cell. Wooden bowls and goblets remained on the floor, accumulated from the two meals they’d been served since their imprisonment.

  "I don’t know," she said, frustrated. "But we must try. We are not helpless. We must work together."

  Johanna swallowed her sobs, but tears spilled over her cheeks. "Mayhap … mayhap I could sell myself to one of the guards."

  "What?" Alenna asked, incredulous.

  The girl took a deep breath. "Aye. I wasna a maiden when I went to the baron. I … I once—"

  "No! I won’t allow you to do that. Your mother wouldn’t want you to sacrifice yourself."

  At the mention of her mother, Johanna sobbed again. "Why did she keep it from me?"

  "Keep what from you?"

  "That the baron is my father."

  "I don’t know, Johanna. But she must have had a good reason. Probably because she knew what the baron was really like. And he would not claim you as his own daughter. You wouldn’t really want him for a father, now you know what he’s like, would you?"

  Johanna’s tear-streaked face reddened. "Nay."

  Alenna patted her back, attempting to give what comfort she could. "Your mother may be safe."

  "She will hate me, even if she is."

  "Why would she hate you?"

  "All this is my doin’. I was fashed, ye see. I wad have my way. If I had no gone, my mathair—"

  "She is alive. I feel it."

  Her assurances appeared to calm the girl somewhat.

  "Please, mistress," Johanna said between sniffles. "I could call for a guard—"

  "No," Alenna said. "You cannot put yourself at risk."

  "The guards might let us take our leave."

  "For your favors? I don’t think so. I think they fear the baron far more. They’d worry what would be done with them if they let us go."

  Clandon laughed. "No if they be busy."

  "What do you mean?" Alenna asked.

  "If there is war, they canna be payin’ much leave to us," Clandon said.

  A loud noise, like cracking wood and the rumbling of rocks falling, heralded something momentous happening not far from their area.

  "Lord save us." Johanna put her hands to her mouth again.

  Fear did a new dance in Alenna’s stomach. If the castle crashed down around them, they were essentially helpless. Another deep terror tore her heart. If Ruthven attacked the castle that meant Tynan had failed to bring a truce to fruition.

  It meant Tynan might be dead.

  Closing her eyes, she saw Tynan cut down by an arrow, or perhaps hanged. Suddenly the walls loomed close, the air too thick and hot.

  She pictured Tynan full of vigor and life. The man she’d known only hours ago, the man who had loved her like she’d never been loved. She prayed like she had never prayed before.

  Please, please let him be safe.

  Alenna took deep breaths to restore her equilibrium. Concentrating on the problem at hand would keep her from dwelling on Tynan’s welfare.

  Was Ruthven attempting another attack? Unless he had a significant force of men, how could he hope to take this mighty castle? Alenna tried to estimate how large the household of men might be, including knights, soldiers and servants.

  Perhaps two hundred individuals? No, that sounded too low. If she counted all the numerous knights in the baron’s employ, the number likely went to three hundred.

  As the pandemonium continued outside, Alenna smelled smoke.

  "Oh, my God," she whispered.

  "The castle is on fire!" Clandon shouted. "There be smoke comin’ in our windows!"

  She looked up. Just as he’d said, a small stream of smoke filled the upper part of the chamber.

  * * *

  Tynan turned toward the castle and watched as a spear came hurdling from between a crenelle high on the battlements. The spear impaled an unsuspecting fool who had wandered too close to the castle walls. With a hollow cry, the man tumbled into the moat with a splash.

  Shouting curses, Ruthven ordered his soldiers to hold their positions. Battlements were heavily armed with archers and other soldiers, ready to rain projectiles down on anyone who came near.

  Although some progress continued in the assault, Tynan didn’t like what he saw. Smoke poured from the center of the castle. He estimated the wooden beam roof of the great hall had caught fire.

  His stomach twisted. Since he’d realized he loved Alenna, he had a difficult time thinking about the battle at hand. As he’d returned to MacAulay Castle, guilt beleaguered his every step. Part of him believed he should have taken Alenna with him. At least now she’d be out of danger. She’d be safe at Ruthven’s castle. But he knew if things hadn’t turned out for the best at Ruthven’s, her life wouldn’t have added up to a half-penny.

  Alenna was in danger because of him.

  Every time he cared for a woman, something bad happened to her.

  No! No. As God was his witness, this time things must be different.

  Alenna had changed his entire world.

  If anything had happened to her, he’d gladly offer himself to a stray arrow or fiery barrage of missiles. The mere thought of loosing her hit his gut like a hot poker.

  He simply couldn’t live without her.

  Alenna had come to this time to save his life. But not only had she saved him from death.

  She’d saved him with her love.

  Alenna wouldn’t give herself body and soul to just any man. Yet she had given Tynan the deepest pleasure a man could know, both in body and spirit. Either way, she was in grave danger right now, and thoughts of her pushed him forward. He had to get inside and find her.

  "Jesu, please let her be safe," he whispered.

  Dougald joined Tynan, and they stood near the huge trebuchet as soldiers prepared it to fire another missile at the castle walls. Moments later Ruthven approached on his horse.

  "We have been at them for a day and have made progress. But not enough. I shall send some of my men back to fetch the other trebuchet." Ruthven said.

  Dougald turned his attention from the soldiers loading the mechanism with stone shot. "Nay, my lord. Soon we can attack the walls by foot and on horseback. The roof of the great hall is alight."

  "It would take hours to get another trebuchet here," Tynan said.

  Ruthven looked at the catapult machine just as a soldier severed with an ax the rope holding the appendage. The stone hurled high into the air as the weight on the other end of the arm came crashing down.

  As the massive stone hit the top of the tower that housed the dungeon, it cracked loudly with the sound of stone crashing inward. Soldiers yelled in unison their satisfaction. The rumble of falling masonry echoed like thunder behind their cheers.

  Ruthven smiled. "And do you think MacAulay will surrender, because his castle is burning down around his ears?"

  Tynan shook his head. "Nay. I shall have to go in and get him."

  Ruthven turned his glare on Tynan. "Not if I get him first."

  "Aye, my lord."

  Ruthven grunted. "How long shall these walls hold out? We have made penetration through two towers and masonry is falling even now from the front curta
in wall."

  "A few more blasts should do it," Dougald said. "I’ll tell the men to ready the batterin’-ram."

  As Dougald headed down the slope, Tynan gazed out over the damage already inflicted on the sturdy fortress. The numerous arrow slits in the curtain walls meant the structure of the walls themselves weakened under continuous attack. More bombardment would accomplish destruction.

  "How thick are these walls, MacBrahin?" Ruthven asked.

  "About twelve lengths, my lord," Tynan answered. "Thicker than most castles can boast. Your soldiers and knights will overwhelm them when they let down their guard."

  Ruthven turned a curious expression on Tynan. "You seem very certain. Yet you trained and worked with these men for four years. Have you so little confidence in them?"

  "Nay. But the garrison will be weak. Tired. Men will fear for their families. We can stay here as long as it takes. They dinna have enough supplies to keep them from starvin’. I asked the baron to keep the supplies up, but he dinna pay mind to me."

  "Then ‘tis his idiocy that will kill him." Ruthven gave him a narrow smile. "You are an interesting man, Tynan of MacBrahin. If you survive this siege, I would like to offer you a position as knight in my household."

  Tynan felt his gut sour. He didn’t think he would ever return to being a warrior after this. After betraying the baron, after putting so many people who had trusted him in mortal danger, the guilt rode him hard. Perhaps he could go back to Glenfinnan and start over there. Perhaps …

  No.

  None of it mattered if he could not be with Alenna.

  "I dinna know what I will do. I willna make any vow ‘till I ken what will be."

  A cry went up as another projectile hit its mark, making a significant hole in the gatehouse. The battering ram would have an easy time making a void big enough for the charge.

  Tynan took little notice of the flurry of activity. All his concentration went in to how he would rescue Alenna. When he reached her, he vowed she would know two things—that he loved her and that he never wanted her to leave him.