The Highlander’s Challenge (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Aili?”

  “Come in.”

  The voice was loud, but arid. It sounded as if the wind spoke, cold and eerie. Alina bit her lip. She entered.

  “Well, then. It's my favorite niece! And how is the bonnie lady?”

  Alina smiled. She stepped forward to greet the small, white-haired lady with shell-blue eyes. She came under Alina's shoulders and embraced her, then looked up at her face.

  “You're worried, lass.” It was a statement, not a question. Alina nodded. “Tell me.”

  Alina followed her aunt, who walked to the table in the corner of the room. A tall, canopied chair faced the door, and on its right, was a section half screened with a tapestry which housed a dark oaken table and chairs, carved and upright, a roaring fire, and an elegantly carved screen. The place was beautiful, furnished more comfortably and richly than the castle beyond.

  Alina sat down in the chair indicated by her small aunt. She waited while Aili sat down then clapped her hands.

  “Come on, you lot!” Aili said briskly. A serving woman appeared, white-haired and round-faced, with red cheeks and merriment in her face.

  “Milady?”

  “There you are!” Aili said wearily. “Well, what are you about? We've guests! What manner of horrid barbarians are we, to leave our guests unfed? Fetch ale and jam tarts. Blackberry ones, if you can find them.”

  Alina smiled. Blackberry was her favorite. Trust Aili to recall that small fact among the others.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “And be quick about it. We've much to say and little time for the doing of it.”

  Alina bit back a grin. She did not ask how her aunt knew the matter was urgent. She simply knew she did. That was enough.

  “Now, dear,” Aili said, turning to face her. “You need to tell me.”

  Alina cleared her throat. “I had a dream, Aunt. In it, darkness engulfed us. All of us.”

  “Aye?” she put her head on one side, reminding Alina uncannily of a jackdaw.

  “Yes,” Alina agreed. “I was there, and Amabel. And you, and Duncan and Broderick. And...and the babe,” she remembered.

  “Aye. And her,” Aili agreed. Alina had not mentioned the child was a girl child. She continued her narration.

  “We were all engulfed in the darkness because Duncan sought permission to wed,” she said, swallowing. She hated the thought it was her fault!

  “The darkness was absolute?” Aili asked. At that moment, the maid appeared with the tray. She set the things down. Aili poured ale. Alina raised her glass and wet her lips with it. It was rich and foaming, refreshing and clear. She drank.

  “No,” she agreed. “It was...hazy. I could see. I simply could not change it.”

  “You're outside the pattern, lass,” Aili nodded firmly. She pointed at her. “You can change things. That's why you could see.”

  Alina paused. She reached for a tart, but did not bite it. “I am?”

  “You can change it. You've started, yes? You know what must be done.” Her voice was unwavering.

  Alina breathed out a shaky breath. “Yes, Aunt. Or...perhaps, I wanted to ask.”

  “You know you're right. Don't need me to affirm it,” Aili snorted. “Trust yourself, lass. You must.”

  Alina swallowed. “I will try, Aunt.”

  “Try hard,” Aili chuckled humorlessly. “You'll need all the trust in yourself you can find, before the end.”

  Alina bit her lip. “I will, Aunt.”

  “Good,” Aili chuckled. She reached for a tart, bit it, and chewed with relish.

  “Aunt?”

  “Mm?” Aili reached for a napkin, dabbing at crumbs.

  “I need to know. There was...a sword?”

  “There've been lots of swords, lass. And lots of quests to find them. What sword is it you seek?”

  Alina shivered. Sometimes her aunt surprised her. She did not even ask how her aunt knew something of the quest. “The one that was stolen,” she said, unwavering.

  “Well,” Aili said with relish, leaning back in her chair with a smile. “Ye tell me. Ye ken where it is. Dinnae fool me. Ye ken it, lass.”

  Alina smiled. Her aunt spoke usually in as courtly a manner as she herself did. When she broadened her accent to match that of the street, it meant she was letting out her teasing, playful side.

  “Aye, Aunt,” she agreed, going along with her playfulness. “I think I do.”

  “An' he does an' all,” Aili grumbled. “Him. The one as thinks he's mighty.”

  Alina laughed. She would have described Uncle Brien like that also. “Indeed. I think he does. Which is why he sent Duncan to recapture it.”

  “He did, aye?” Aili chuckled. “And who's he think he is, eh? King o' the Mound?”

  Alina laughed. The mounds were faerie places, and if her uncle thought he was king of the Otherworld beings, that was the height of hubris. She nodded. “Something like that,” she added dryly.

  Aili chuckled. “Indeed. And so what does our self-proclaimed king think he's doing now? Sending knights on gallant pilgrimage?”

  “A knight,” Alina corrected. Her voice cracked. Duncan was the epitome of what knights should be: honorable, upright, noble-hearted. “A beloved one.”

  Aili reached a hand to cover hers. Said nothing. Alina swallowed, allowing her aunt to comfort her.

  “I would kill him,” Alina whispered. She meant Uncle Brien. “How dare he bring his hubris here, to endanger us?”

  Aili chuckled. “I know you would kill him, fox-heart,” she sighed. It was the nickname she used for Alina, saying often that she had the heart of a vixen, fierce and questing. “But you cannot. It achieves naught. Besides, that one believes himself some ancient noble,” she chuckled. “Has since he was young.”

  “Really?” Alina was interested.

  “Aye,” Aili continued, keeping up the lighthearted accent. “He does. He fancies himself dispensing tasks like some ancient king. Always had a romantic streak, he did. I recall him as Uncle Brien, the young brother of my own father, not certain of anything.” She laughed. “Allus wanted to be lord, then too. And he loved the lasses, he did.”

  Alina stared. “Indeed?” she covered her mouth with her hand, scarce believing that. Her uncle Brien as a lady killer was impossible to imagine.

  “'S true,” Aili insisted. She was chuckling also. “Dinnae make me laugh, lass. He did so. Allus havin' his romantic notions. When he finally settled on Colla, I was surprised.”

  “Oh?” Colla was her great-aunt, Uncle Brien's wife. She had died young, leaving her great-uncle Brien to raise Colla, his daughter, alone. That daughter, Alina's Aunt Colla had wed the duke of Athol and lived far afield. She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen her or conversed with her.

  “Aye,” Aili continued her narration. “And I wonder sometimes that he did not wed again. He allus was romantic,” she shook her head sadly.

  “Uncle Brien wishes himself to be one of the ancient kings, dispensing quests to knights?” Alina said, shaking her own head. “That explains it.” She chuckled.

  “It explains plenty,” Aili said.

  Alina laughed. She was going to ask her more about how else it explained things, but she was abruptly halted.

  “My lady!” the maid appeared, eyes terrified, hands clasped to her chest. “We must leave! We're under attack.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DARKNESS AND SHADOW

  DARKNESS AND SHADOW

  Alina's head whipped round. She stared at Aili. Aili looked unworried.

  It was the dream!

  Alina felt her whole body grow cold. She had foreseen that death and terror would follow Duncan's words and now the castle was besieged. The last siege Lochlann had faced was over sixty years ago, in the time of her great-grandfather's reign! How was this possible?

  She stood and gathered her skirts in her hand, reaching for composure. Nodded to the maid and to Aili. “We must leave.” She was undisturbed, completely herself. No on
e would guess that a moment ago she had been numb with terror.

  Aili stood. She said nothing. Stood in the middle of the room, arms at her sides, eyes closed. She seemed to be summoning some sort of blessing, her face serene and calm. Then she turned to Alina.

  “We leave now.”

  Alina nodded and together she, Aili, and the serving woman walked calmly down the stairs.

  They reached chaos.

  The corridor that connected the east wing to the castle was a pandemonium of guards, shouts and running feet. As Alina stepped into the hallway a man-at-arms almost ran into her, then exclaimed and moved hastily aside. Alina stopped him, taking his arm.

  “What is happening?” she demanded. “Gaire? Tell me.”

  The use of the man's name – luckily Alina knew him by name – calmed him. It seemed to also calm the others, as the movement became noticeably more ordered as they walked through to the hallway. He swallowed hard. “My lady, the castle is under attack. We are surrounded. The men are on the wall now...” he made a mute gesture of appeal and Alina guessed he wished to join his colleagues.

  “Thank you,” she nodded briskly. “Off you go. Blessings on you,” she added. He smiled radiantly. Then, after bowing and muttering thanks, she ran to join the others.

  She went back to her companions. “They're at the gates,” she explained quickly. The maid looked worried but Aili was still.

  “We should gather in the hall,” Aili said calmly, her voice deeper, strong, and firm.

  Alina nodded. That made sense. Laid the length of the courtyard, away from the drawbridge, with thick doors, the great hall was the safest place to shelter from attack. She walked beside Aili, and, together, they headed down the corridor towards the stairs.

  On the way down, Alina stumbled. Someone had run into her.

  “Alina!” the person who had hit her said, amazed.

  “Chrissie?” Alina stared at her. She had not expected to see her little cousin, all gold curls and white lace, running up the stairs. She should have been safely settled in the hall already!

  “Alina! Oh, thank Heaven!” Chrissie ran at her and threw her arms around her, clinging on.

  Alina smiled and stroked her back, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. “Come with us. We're going to the great hall. It's safe there.”

  “Us?” Chrissie paused. She looked to her right, and then gave a little gasp. Aili, Alina realized, had retired from castle gatherings when Chrissie was a year old. She had never gone to visit in the east wing, as far as Alina knew. Aili was a total unknown.

  The girl looked at the older woman, their eyes level. Chrissie was slight, and still had a little growing left to do. Alina guessed she would not be as tall as herself or her sister, but more the same frame as their aunt.

  Alina glanced sideways at Aili's face. The lines of her jaw were rigid. Her eyes shone. Alina realized her aunt was as close to tears as she had ever been. She wondered in that moment how like Frances, beloved sister of Aili, Chrissie looked. Her heart ached.

  The girl looked bewildered and then gave her aunt a shy smile.

  “Greetings.”

  Aili cleared her throat. “Come on, lass,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. The three of them hurried into the hall.

  Inside the hall they found confusion and panic. The servants had fled there – the maidservants, the stable boys, the children of the guards. They sat at the benches, faces blank with fear, or huddled in the corners, the children scurrying about, wide eyed. The room was dark and smelled of terror. Alina heard a pounding, a dull thud. It echoed through the building, the sound of wood, cracked against wood. She closed her eyes and the children wailed.

  The enemy was battering the gate.

  The noise of cries and terror made Alina wince. She put her hands over her ears. Then, silently, she walked to the center of the hall.

  “Tam,” she called at the group of youths, stable-hands she assumed, who scurried about, looking frightened and directionless. She had no idea if any of the boys were called Tam, but it was a sufficiently popular name. With luck, a small pale-haired child turned round from where he had been sitting near the raised platform.

  “Aye?”

  “Will you help me light the torches?”

  The little boy nodded. He had a whispered conversation with the other boys and soon they were scurrying about in earnest silence, carrying the pitch logs from wall brackets to the vast fireplace. Alina sighed. That took care of that. The room slowly filled with hazy light and the scent of pitch logs, burning sweetly.

  “Blaire?” she called her own maid. She had spotted the woman huddled with a group of older women at the benches. She faced Alina directly.

  “Aye, milady?”

  “Will you organize some women to fetch soup and bannocks? We can feed the people and supply the men at arms when they take shifts.”

  “Aye, madam. Glenna? Come you along wi' me.”

  Blaire hurried away, gathering a group of younger women around her. Together they headed from the hall. Soon they and the little girls were handing out food. The hall quieted down.

  Alina breathed out raggedly, relief making her feel tired. She returned to Aili where she stood with Chrissie in the corner by a torch. The two were silent, Aili seeming half-entranced, Chrissie looking around, frightened. The peace Aili radiated was comforting, and Alina felt herself relax. Only then did she allow herself to feel her own exhaustion.

  “Aunt?” She twisted her hands in her sleeves, tense, walking to the edge of the room. Duncan is out there. What is happening?

  With all in order for the present, her mind could find time to worry. She could almost wish more distraction. She imagined Duncan wounded, shot at, dying as the darkness swallowed him.

  “Come, lass,” Aili said. She clasped Alina's arm. “Let us pray.”

  Alina nodded. That was a good idea.

  She knelt, and Aili remained standing, her knees too sore to bend to kneel. Chrissie dropped gracefully to her knees beside Alina, and bowed her blonde curls. Soon the group were surrounded by other men and women, also deep in prayer. Silence reigned in the hall.

  Alina, her heart pounding, prayed more desperately than she ever had in her life. Duncan. Let him live. Please. Please, let him live. Let us find a way through this darkness, whatever it might be.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A SUDDEN RESCUE

  A SUDDEN RESCUE

  The wind ruffled the cloaks of the defenders where they stood on the wall. Duncan shivered, drawing his cloak closer about him. He could barely hear the soft sigh of wind over the maelstrom of activity in the courtyard below.

  The men beside him on the wall were armed with bows. He had with him his longsword, suited for combat should any reach them here. So far, it did not seem their assailants were equipped with rope or ladders. They were more intent on breaking down the gate.

  Which held.

  At least, Duncan thought grimly, for the present. The men attacking the gate were armed with a great ram, made of a single tree trunk from deep in the forest. It took twelve of them to bear it, and each time it rammed the gate, he felt the tremor of its impact even here, a good twenty feet away along the wall.

  He wanted to be closer. Blaine, in charge of defenses, had sent him to the edge. He had asked him how he was with a longbow, and when Duncan admitted to barely using one had sent him to the margins. Being assessed as a foot soldier by the young man was bitter, but Duncan could understand his thoughts. The longbow was a fierce weapon. The men who wielded it were the masters of this kind of warfare. He could utilize a crossbow as well as the next man, but the range was not as good or the strike so fierce.

  I should be here to keep men from entering the place.

  That was what he feared most. Men in the castle would kill mercilessly. He had no idea who the enemy was – Blaine didn't either – but whoever they were, if they entered, they would pillage. Violence and slaughter would be foremost and he had a family to protect. Alina's famil
y.

  “Back!”

  The men below were retreating. Duncan sighed relief. He knew why: Blaine had ordered pots of oil brought up. He shuddered to think of using them, but knew it was the only way. The searing heat would kill the men below in the most appalling manner. The thought that his young friend ordered it surprised him. Lethal on the field or in combat, Duncan still hated the idea of siege warfare, thinking it dishonest in comparison to fighting one-on-one.

  “MacConnoway!”

  Duncan whipped round. He faced Brien. He stared. The old man was perfectly at home up here. He wore a chain-mail coat and carried a dagger. He looked as serene as if he was overseeing a banquet.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Round the back. We need defenders at the other side.”

  Duncan stared at him, confused. “My lord? There are few men,” he began, waving a hand at the band below them. Besides the twelve with the tree, there were perhaps fifteen others. It was a tiny force, probably no more than thirty men. The danger of being surrounded was infinitely small.

  “I ordered you elsewhere,” Brien said. He turned away, expecting Duncan to obey without question.

  Duncan drew in a breath. He wanted to argue. However, it was the thane's fortress and if he wanted Duncan away from the single place he could be useful, there was no arguing with him. He sighed.

  He cast a last glance at Blaine, but the youth, livid in firelight, was busy instructing the bow-men. He turned away.

  As he walked across the courtyard, glancing back at the wall where the defenders were outlined by their torchlight, he heard something.

  A shout. Coming from the other side of the castle.

  Lord Brien was right, he thought, already running. They had entered through the rear gate.

  Feeling himself sweating, Duncan ran across the darkened flagstones and into the great hall. Inside, he found chaos. The men-at-arms, dressed in green, were rushing out, each heading to the rear gate to address the threat. Leaving the place undefended. Duncan stared at them.