by Tarah Scott
She placed a hand over her belly and gently soothed as if to quiet the babe. Castle Glenbarr could easily withstand a yearlong siege. St. Claire had seen to that. Not that he’d believed it would be necessary. Lady Taresa had seven hundred warriors, and her grandfather, five hundred. The two hundred men inside the castle walls would stay while those three hundred who lived in the village and on his land would follow him into battle. Altogether, St. Claire would ride with at least fourteen hundred men. They would easily beat the English army back. But none of that guaranteed St. Claire would survive the battle.
Thank God they had discovered Edward’s plot to kill him. At least, that way, he stood a chance of surviving. Rhoslyn gave a small gasp upon realizing she hadn’t thanked the abbess for warning them of the plot. She murmured a prayer of thanks and one asking forgiveness for her selfishness.
Gratitude brought the desire to cry. The abbess was so kind to deliver the message personally. Rhoslyn could only wonder how Sister Beatrice had heard of Edward’s plan, but the abbess was a powerful woman. In the time Rhoslyn spent at the abbey, she had seen some of the Guardians visit. Even William Wallace once came in the early morning hours. Like the wee hours of the morning when her grandfather’s men arrived to take her to Lord Melrose.
Rhoslyn had been unlucky enough for the abbess to be away the night the men came for her. How different might things have turned out if she’d been there. Might the abbess have counseled her not to go? Might she have known something that would have better guided Rhoslyn? Had things turned out so badly?
The abbess had said she knew St. Claire would be glad for the baby.
For an instant, Rhoslyn was back in her cell, feeling Sister Hildegard dress her. “She sent me,” Hildegard had said of Beatrice. Beatrice had been there. Why, then, hadn’t she intervened? The appearance of her grandfather’s warriors to take her away in the middle of the night in order to avoid marriage to St. Claire was no small matter.
Rhoslyn’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. Aside from the men sent to bring her from St. Mary’s, only her grandfather and Lord Melrose knew she would be leaving the abbey that night. Her mind jumped forward. Was it possible one of the warriors had betrayed them and sent word to St. Claire? Possible yes, but probable? More probable than the possibility that Beatrice was the one who told him?
Beatrice hadn’t seen Rhoslyn off with the warriors because she had left for Castle Glenbarr before Hildegard came and told her the men were there.
It couldn’t be. Beatrice would never betray her. Never.
If not her, then who?
Rhoslyn mentally counted through the men who had been there that night. She knew them all. Not a one would betray her grandfather. But one of them had. How could she possibly prove it? St. Claire would know. Maybe. The traitor might have sent an anonymous letter. If Beatrice stayed at the convent, why hadn’t she come to Rhoslyn when the warriors arrived? If only she could speak with the warriors her grandfather had sent for her.
Sir Ascot. Her grandfather had left him at Castle Glenbarr to help St. Claire.
Still no signs of St. Claire. Worry tightened her belly. Had something gone wrong? Either way, there was nothing she could do. In the darkness, she wouldn’t be able to distinguish St. Claire.
She turned from the tower and hurried from the room. She stopped at the stairs and stared down. The climb back up would be difficult. Rhoslyn glanced back at the room, then turned and started down the stairs.
Sir Ascot wasn’t in the castle and Rhoslyn was forced to wait as one of the lads fetched him from the wall. She ascended to her private solar and waited. At least once she was done speaking with him, she would be rested for the trip back to the north tower.
He arrived a little while later.
“Sir Ascot, thank ye for coming. Will you sit?” She nodded at the other end of the bench were she sat.
“Nay, my lady. I canna’ stay long.”
“Of course. Forgive me for calling you here. No signs of St. Claire?”
He shook his head.
“I expected him before this,” she said.
“Dinna’ worry. I am certain he is safe. It may be it is taking more time than anticipated to gather his men.”
That was true. She had no idea how Lady Taresa managed her men. “I am certain you are right,” she said.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Not quite. Can ye tell me, Sir Ascot, the night you came for me at the convent, how long did ye wait?”
“Wait, my lady?”
“Before I arrived.”
“It was some time,” he said. “I am of the mind that had we left sooner, Sir Talbot would no’ have caught us.”
Rhoslyn couldn’t help a small gasp.
“My lady, forgive me. I did no’ mean to blame you. You could not have understood the need for haste. In truth, I didna’ believe he would stop us. How could he have possibly known?” Sir Ascot paused, then his gaze sharpened and Rhoslyn realized he’d deduced that she knew something. “Have ye an idea who told him?” He went down on one knee before her. “Tell me and I will deal with the traitor.”
Rhoslyn smiled gently. “Sir Ascot, do ye regret our current circumstances?”
“You shouldna’ be caught in the middle of someone else’s war,” he said vehemently.
“And if this war had been Lord Melrose’s?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
She laid a hand on his arm. “I understand your fears.” And share them. “Did my grandfather no’ send you here to help my husband?”
He bent his head. “Forgive me, my lady. I am yours to command.”
“Continue as ye have,” she said. “When you protect St. Claire, you protect me.”
He lifted his head and determined glint shone in his eyes. “Aye, my lady.” He rose, bowed, and left.
Rhoslyn stared even after the door had closed.
Abbess Beatrice had slipped away from the convent while Hildegard delayed her grandfather’s men.
Why?
* * *
Talbot glanced past the warrior carrying the torch and caught sight of the approaching rider.
The man drew up alongside the torchman and said to Talbot, “There is a company of men, about two hundred, approaching from the rear.”
“Who are they?” he demanded.
“They are flying the banner of Lord Lochland.”
Talbot exchanged a glance with Seward, who rode to his left. “Have you any idea what he wants?”
Seward shook his head. “Nay.”
“They are riding fast,” the warrior said.
Castle Glenbarr lay two miles ahead. Talbot found it hard to believe the earl was headed anywhere but there.
“I will take my men and see what he wants,” Seward said.
“Nay,” Talbot replied. “I do not want to deviate from the plan. We will arrive at Castle Glenbarr together. When Edward’s army sees that they are outnumbered three to one, there is a chance they will retreat.”
“Ye are still intent on not killing them?” He gave Talbot no chance to reply. “They will only return with more men.”
“I will not slaughter my countrymen for obeying their king’s command.”
“Ye had best prepare to slaughter them, for they may no’ retreat,” Seward said.
Anger shot to the surface. “Aye,” he said. If that happened, he would deal with Edward. “Take your men and circle around behind Lochland,” he told Seward. “But do nothing unless you hear us attack.”
“I suppose I must obey ye, Lord Baliman.” Seward’s amused tone took the sting from the words. He called an order for his men to follow, and steered his horse to the right to circle back.
Talbot sent a hundred of his men back around the other side. Then he turned the remaining five hundred men, faced the oncoming riders, and waited.
Minutes later, a lit torch appeared on the road in the distance. The approaching riders Talbot didn’t slow, but Talbot knew they had to have seen the torch h
eld by the man to his right. The thunder of horses’ hooves soon reached his ears. The men neared, then slowed and finally stopped fifty feet away. Lochland rode forward alone and halted in front of Talbot.
“I am pleased ye had the sense no’ to attack me,” Lochland said.
“What do you want?” Talbot demanded.
“I understand ye have English visitors,” Lochland said. “A few of my men are anxious to meet them.”
“I will not trade favors, Lochland,” Talbot said.
“Aye, eventually ye will, but I am no’ asking it of you.”
“Why do this?” Talbot demanded.
“Edward might be a good arbitrator, but he has no right to force any of us to our knees.”
“Do you forget that I am English?” Talbot said.
“Nay, just as Edward hasna’ forgotten that ye are a Highlander.”
The earl was right. Edward was all too aware of his Scottish connection, which Talbot suspected had a part in Edward’s plan to murder him. How much did Lochland know?
“What makes you think Edward sent his men to force me to do anything?”
Lochland laughed. “Edward does no’ send five hundred men to Scotland to ask for anything.”
That was also true.
“You will do as I command,” Talbot said. “If the men-at-arms retreat peacefully, I will allow them to return to England.”
A moment of silence passed before Lochland said, “What will ye do if they return in greater numbers?”
“Kill them.”
* * *
Rhoslyn once again stood in the north tower watching through the window when the door behind her opened. She whirled and startled to see Lady Taresa enter. Behind her came Mistress Muira.
Rhoslyn hurried forward. “My lady, what are ye doing here? St. Claire, is he with you?” She hadn’t seen them arrive.
Taresa clasped her hand. “No, child. He is not with me. He told me of your secret entrance and Derek brought me.”
“Ye should no’ have come,” Rhoslyn said. “I am surprised St. Claire allowed it.”
She laughed. “He has no power to command me. Though he did try. When I told him I was coming and he could not stop me, he instructed Sir Derek on how to enter through the secret passageway. It was necessary I come.”
“It isna’ safe,” Rhoslyn insisted.
“It is quite safe,” she replied. “The English army has no interest in me. I could have passed through their ranks and entered through the front gate, but to open the gate was too risky.”
Rhoslyn shifted her attention to the housekeeper. “How did you know I was in the north tower?”
“Ye were no’ in your apartment. It was an easy deduction.”
Rhoslyn nodded, then said to Lady Taresa, “Come, let us sit in my solar.”
Taresa’s gaze shifted to the window. “You can see the battlefield from here?”
“You can see the men. The battle hasna’ begun. St. Claire has yet to arrive.”
“Then we should stay and watch.”
“Nay,” Rhoslyn urged. “It is cold and drafty.”
She ignored Rhoslyn and crossed to the window. “You are wrong, child.” Taresa looked at her. “Talbot has arrived.”
* * *
Talbot sent Lochland to the west and Seward to the east. Sir Derek caught up with Talbot after delivering Lady Taresa safely to Castle Glenbarr. Her stubborn determination to join Rhoslyn reminded him of his sister. “Determination runs in our family, Talbot,” Taresa had said, and he’d half wondered if she’d read his mind.
She had pointed out that he would need Sir Derek to lead the men from Narlton Keep, so it would be easy for Derek to deliver her to Castle Glenbarr first. Talbot intended to refuse, to the point of locking her in her room, until she reminded him that Rhoslyn was very pregnant, and it would be a comfort to have family nearby while he dealt with the English.
Talbot sent Sir Derek south, while he approached from the north. Beside him, rode the warrior carrying the only lit torch amongst their ranks. As expected, when they neared the castle and the English camp, men mounted horses and met them before they reached camp.
Talbot brought his men to a halt.
“Who goes there?” called a man.
Talbot recognized the voice of the captain, Sir Ronald. “It is I, Sir Talbot.”
Ronald urged his horse forward. He drew near and squinted at Talbot. “You did not leave through the front gate, St. Claire.” The man’s voice dripped with accusation. “Who are these men?”
“My men,” Talbot replied. “Go back to England, Ronald. Tell Edward I know of his plot.”
“Plot? What plot?”
The man’s surprise sounded genuine. Talbot could easily believe Edward hadn’t chosen his captain as his assassin. If Talbot refused to return to England, Ronald would try to force him, while the assassin waited for an opportunity to kill him. That doubled Edward’s chances of making sure Talbot left Scotland.
“Return to England,” Talbot said.
“I cannot leave without you.”
Talbot glanced at his warrior holding the torch and nodded. The man lifted the torch high above his head. Three companies of men emerged from the trees beyond the field, from the shadows beyond the camp. They seemed to bleed from the darkness.
Shouts went up in the camp.
“You had better stop them,” Talbot said. “You do not stand a chance against my army.”
Sir Ronald stared at him for an instant, then called, “Evan, return to camp. No man is to draw a sword.”
Evan turned his horse. The beast lunged forward, then broke into a gallop.
“How many?” Ronald demanded.
“Sixteen hundred,” Talbot replied.
“You could be lying.”
“I am not. When the sun rises you will see.”
“Why not kill us?” Ronald asked.
“If you do not leave at dawn, I will.”
* * *
“It had to have been St. Claire.” For the dozenth time, Rhoslyn stalked to the window in her solar, despite knowing she could see little of the men camped beyond the wall.
After the two groups of riders met and talked, the English returned to their camp, and the riders followed, then camped beside them.
“Why is he staying out there?” she said.
“You did not think the English army would leave because he asked nicely?” Taresa said.
Rhoslyn looked at her. “Ye think they mean to fight?”
“No. I think they mean to wait until the light of day to be sure they are outnumbered. It will not be easy for them to tell King Edward they did not raise a single sword. They will have to be certain they are vastly outnumbered.”
Rhoslyn glanced at the window. “But ye do think they will leave quietly?”
“Everything is quiet, Rhoslyn. Have faith in Talbot. He does not want to fight his countrymen. He is giving them every opportunity to leave peaceably.”
“That does no’ mean they will.”
“Come, sit with me.” Taresa patted the bench beside her. “You do not want to overexcite yourself.”
Truth be told, Rhoslyn was tired. But she couldn’t think of sleeping.
“Come,” Lady Taresa urged. “Talbot will not be pleased if he returns to find you overwrought.”
Rhoslyn did as she asked and sat beside her.
“It is kind of you to come to me,” Rhoslyn said.
“You are my family. I would not be anywhere else.” She smiled. “Family is what matters, yes?”
“Aye,” Rhoslyn agreed. “There is nothing more important.”
“Tell me,” Taresa said, “have you and Talbot decided upon a name for the baby?”
Rhoslyn shook her head. “St. Claire has said nothing.”
Taresa snorted. “Men. Never mind. Have you a name in mind?”
“We could name him after his father.”
“Talbot is a fine name,” Taresa agreed.
“My grandfather’s na
me is Hugo. My father was named Henry.”
Taresa’s brow rose. “You are certain it is a boy? What if you have a girl?”
“I do no’ know. St. Claire seems to want a son.”
“All men want sons. But they love daughters, as well. An older sister will keep her brother in line.”
Rhoslyn laughed. “No’ if she is like me. I was always in trouble.”
“Not you,” Taresa said in a teasing tone.
“Aye.” She recounted the tale of how she had left Banmore Castle in search of her puppy. The animal had gone missing and Rhoslyn was sure he’d gotten lost outside the castle.
The evening wore on, and Rhoslyn at last was forced to give into Lady Taresa’s insistence that she sleep. Her eyes grew heavy, and despite her best efforts to continue watch through the solar window, she knew it was best for the baby if she rested.
“If ye hear anything, you will wake me?” Rhoslyn asked of Taresa, once she’d agreed to retire.
“I promise,” the older woman said. “But let us hope it is Talbot who wakens you in the morning, and not me.”
“Ye dinna’ have to go.” The words were out of her mouth before she could catch herself and she dropped her gaze.
“This bed is certainly large enough for two,” Taresa said. “Would you mind very much if I stayed with you?”
Rhoslyn lifted her eyes. “I would be very pleased for you to stay with me.”
Taresa leaned close and said, “It will teach Talbot a lesson if he decides to visit you in the middle of the night. He will think twice about leaving you alone, yes?”
Rhoslyn laughed and hugged the woman.
* * *
“You look as if you need sleep,” Talbot said to Seward.
The old baron didn’t look up from campfire he stared at. “Ye worry about yourself, St. Claire. I am well enough.”
Morning light nipped at the edges of the east horizon. None of them had slept. Some men lay sleeping, some talking in low tones, but Talbot listened to noises from the English camp. The sounds suggested men rousing and tending their horses. Unless Sir Ronald intended to attack, his men were preparing to leave. Talbot wasn’t a religious man—Rhoslyn was religious enough for the two of them—but if he thought praying would speed Edward’s army on their way, he would have passed the night on his knees.
