by B. J. Scott
Logan stepped forward and slapped Garrett’s shoulder. “She has you over a barrel, cousin. Better to give your consent and have her at your side where you can keep an eye on her, than out of sight. Besides, if you dinna let her come along, you will be fashing over what she might be up to and unable to concentrate on the raid.”
Garrett grunted, then raked his fingers through his hair. Logan was right. It would be better to have her where he could watch her. After a brief pause, he threw his hands up in defeat. “I surrender.” He waited for the low rumble of laughter and bawdy comments amongst his kinsmen to die down before he could continue.
Arya smiled. “I’m glad you see it my way. When do we ride?”
The proud, defiant jut of her chin made him smile and tugged at his heartstrings, but he’d not give her the satisfaction of knowing she had that kind of effect on him. One day he would marry Arya, but taming this lass would not be easy.
“We leave as soon as the sun has set and will be traveling most of the night, so best you rest up. Arm yourself well, but only bring what you must. We need to travel light.” Garrett shook his head, then dragged his hand across his chin. “I have no idea how you plan to explain to your mother where you are going, but I suppose you will find a way to avoid a confrontation.”
Arya nodded. “I’ll handle my mam. I am just glad you’ve come around to my way of thinking.” She gave a curt nod then trotted off.
“Come around indeed,” Garrett scoffed.
“Who is the milksop now? The lass certainly has a way of turning you inside out,” Logan said, laughing. “When you marry it will be interesting to see which one of you wears the trews.”
“Likely both of us,” Garrett grumbled. “But marriage is not something Arya is even considering. Or so she claims.”
Logan shrugged. “All woman want to get married. I swear they are born and bred to trap a man.”
“Not Arya. Every time I bring it up, she turns me down flat, so I willna worry about that right now. We must finish making plans for the raid. Lord help us if we get caught.”
Chapter 3
Arya stomped toward her croft. Damn Garrett’s attempt to forbid her from going on the raid. And he wondered why she never wanted to marry. However, she had to admit he was right about one thing. Explaining to her mother would not be easy.
She sat on a fallen log, resting her chin upon her hand. How could she make Scotia understand that this was not a deliberate act of defiance? Nor was it a careless attempt to prove she could compete with the men. All she was trying to do was honor the promise she’d made to her father and provide for her family?
True there were risks involved, but she was as skilled in battle as any of her kinsmen. And this was the only way she could ensure they’d have enough food to get them through the winter. Garrett would see they did not go hungry, but she refused to be beholding to anyone. Not as long as she was capable of doing the task herself.
If only her father hadn’t died. Oh, how she missed him, longed to hear his voice and the rich timber of his laughter. She’d give anything if they could spend one more day fishing or hunting together. If anyone would understand her need to accompany the men on this raid, he would. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I know you would be proud of me, Da.” She choked back a sob.
Unfortunately, explaining this to her mother was not her only problem. They’d be gone for the better part of a night and day, maybe more, and Scotia could not be left alone for that long. Perhaps if she asked her mam’s friend, Isla, to stay with her, she could avoid an argument. She saw no point in causing her mother more worry than she already harbored.
Arya rose and brushed the leaves from her trews. She’d speak to Isla before she prepared for the journey. She padded down the path, the familiar rush of nervous energy she always felt before entering into a confrontation with an enemy or just before she took down a buck in the forest, bubbling up from her belly. But it was swiftly replaced by knot of trepidation when she arrived at Isla’s cottage. What if she could not stay with Scotia?
She knocked on the door.
“Aye. Who is it?” Isla asked.
“Arya. I—”
Rusty hinges creaked as the door opened. “I am so pleased to see you, Arya. What brings you to my hut? Nothing has happened to Scotia, I hope,” Isla quickly added, then crossed herself.
“Mam is about the same, but she is the reason I have come to see you.”
“Step inside, my dear. There’s a chill in the air, and my old bones have been aching a lot more than usual. Winter is coming, you know.” Isla stepped back, clearing the path for Arya to enter.
Arya nipped at her lower lip, stifling the urge to chuckle. Isla was far from old. She had not yet turned two score and had always been a healthy, vibrant woman. But after her husband and sons died at Bannockburn, Isla’s mind aged considerably.
“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling poorly. I shouldna have bothered you.” Arya turned to leave.
“Nonsense.” Isla cupped Arya’s elbow. “I am always happy when you come to call. It gets very lonely, now that Duncan and my lads are gone.” Isla dragged her calloused hand across her cheek, catching a stray tear. “Come in and tell me what it is you wanted to speak to me about.”
Arya entered the small stone croft and glanced around. The fire in the hearth had burned down to ash, and there appeared to be no wood to get it going again. “If you’d like, I could fetch you some logs and tinder before I go.” Arya moved to the shelf by the door and peered into a nearly empty crock of oats. Isla’s supplies were as bleak as theirs. I will also bring you some other items when I return.”
“You’re going somewhere?” Isla asked.
“Aye, the reason I’ve come to see you.” Arya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then cast her gaze to the floor, searching for an excuse that had nothing to do with the raid. She hated fibbing to Isla, but it was better if neither she nor her mother knew where she was going. Otherwise, both ladies would do their utmost to stop her.
“Mairi MacDougall, is due to have her third bairn any day now.” The first part of her story was true. Her friend was indeed with child. Arya crossed her fingers behind her back before she continued. “She sent word to me, asking if I could come and assist her with the birth. But I canna leave my mother alone.” The latter part she’d made up. While Mairi would welcome her help, she had not requested it.
“And you want me to stay with Scotia while you are gone?”
“Aye, if it wouldna be too much trouble. I’ll only be away for a day or two at best and would be most grateful.”
Isla clasped Arya’s hand and gave it a pat. “Of course, I will stay with your mother. And take as long as you like.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back soon. But I am sure Mam will enjoy the company. She seldom gets out of bed these days, and I canna remember the last time she was well enough to leave the croft to visit with people.”
“Your mother and I have been friends since we were weans, and I’m glad I can help. I’m ashamed that I havena come to see her more often.”
“She understands.” Arya hugged Isla, then headed for the door, pausing before lifting the latch. “I will bring in some wood for your fire before I go home.”
“I’d appreciate that, dear,” Isla said smiling. “Just pile it by the door. I willna be needing much if I am going to be staying with your mam. When do you think you’ll be leaving?”
“Not until after the evening meal. A friend is going to escort me.”
“I’m glad you’ll have company. One canna be too careful these days. It isna safe for a woman to travel alone.”
“Nay, I suppose you are right. So you’ll come in a few hours?” Arya asked in an attempt to change the topic.
“Aye. I’ll see you then.”
Arya
offered a quick nod, then opened the door. “I am most grateful,” she said, then stepped outside. The knowledge her mother would be taken care of in her absence was like having a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. Now, if she could avoid a confrontation with Scotia, she’d be happy.
Arya collected enough wood to keep the fire burning for several days, then entered her croft. Pleased to find her mother sleeping, she quickly went about gathering the supplies she’d need for the raid. A skilled archer, she placed her bow, arrows, and quiver beside a padded gambeson, a targe, dirk, a baldric, and her father’s sword.
Dressed in her normal attire, a tunic, trews, and leather boots, she placed the weapons outside the door so her mother would not see them and become suspicious. Her preparations for the journey completed, she then made enough bannock and oatcakes to tide them over for several days. While they baked, she cleaned and skinned the hare she’d won the night before, then plunked it into a pot filled with water. After adding some turnips and onions, she set the stew to simmering over the fire.
After they’d cooled, Arya placed a couple of oatcakes and a bit of bannock into a sack to take with her, then left the remainder on table. She’d used the last of her supplies, but with any luck, the raid would be successful and they’d soon have enough to see them through till spring. Now, all she had to do was wait and pray her mother would not wake up and start asking questions.
Scotia stirred, then mumbles something in her sleep, but to Arya’s relief her mam did not awaken. Still hoping to avoid a confrontation about where she was going, she went outside to wait for Isla.
The late afternoon sun warmed her cheeks, and a gentle breeze tousled her unbound hair. She yawned and stretched. Perhaps Garrett was right about another thing. A nap before they left for the Campbell’s stronghold might be prudent. She spread a plaid on the ground beneath a shady tree and laid upon it. She tucked her arm beneath her head and peered between the branches at the azure sky. Was her father watching from Heaven? Would he be by her side in spirit, if not in body while on the journey? Certain he would always be there to protect her, she released a sigh and shut her eyes.
“Is everything all right, lass? Why are you sleeping outside?” Isla asked.
Arya woke with a start. She’d nodded off, but for how long she was uncertain. “My mother was resting, and I dinna want to wake her so I sat beneath this tree. I must have fallen asleep.” She dragged her hand across her eyes, then stood and brushed the dirt off her clothes. “What time is it?”
“I am not certain, but it is well past time for the evening meal. The sun is starting to set.”
“I had no idea it was so late.” Arya scurried to the croft, opened the door a crack, and peeked inside.
“Is there something amiss?” Isla asked.”
“Nay, but my mother is still asleep and needs her rest. I wondered if perhaps you can tell her where I’ve gone when she awakens.”
Arya was by no means a coward or deceptive person, but if she didn’t have to lie to her mother about going on the raid, it would be easier on everyone. Eventually, Scotia would find out, but she hoped her mam would forgive the lie once she returned with enough food and supplies to get them through the winter.
“Of course, dear.” Isla patted Arya’s arm. “You be on your way, and I will explain everything to Scotia. Godspeed, and give my best to Mairi and Rory.”
“Who?” Arya stared at her mother’s friend, forgetting for a moment the tale she’d spun. She gave her head a shake. “Oh, aye, I will give them your regards. Thank you again for staying with my mother. She hasna eaten supper, but I left a pot of stew simmering over the fire, so help yourself to as much as you’d like. I also made enough oatcakes and bannock to last you both until I return.”
Isla smiled and rubbed her belly. “A stew will be a real treat. Seems you have thought of everything. Scotia is lucky to have such a caring and considerate daughter.”
Guilt twisted Arya’s stomach and while she was tempted to blurt out the truth, she held her tongue.
“Safe journey.” Isla waved. “And give that new babe a kiss from me. Dinna fash over your mam. I’ll take good care of her while you are away.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to be back as soon as I can. The Lord willing,” Arya mumbled the final words beneath her breath.
Chapter 4
Arya led her horse into the clearing where the men prepared to leave for the Campbell stronghold. “I’m here. When do we ride?”
Garrett shook his head. “About time you arrived. Any later and we’d have left without you. Not a bad idea if you ask me.”
“No one asked,” Arya said, frowning. “We’ve already been through this. I am going with you and nothing you can say will change my mind.” She climbed on her horse’s back, then fisted the reins. “I’ve my weapons, provisions, and I’m ready to go. How about you?”
Garrett grunted, mounted his destrier, then rallied the men. “We are about to leave, so if any of you have changed your mind about going, no one will think any less of you.” He looked Arya in the eye, their gazes locked. “There is no shame in staying behind.”
Arya nodded and squared her shoulders. “I agree. Let’s go.” She turned her horse and kicked it into a swift trot.
Garrett and the others followed in her wake.
They rode in silence, the miles and hours passing quickly. Not long after they’d rounded Loch Awe, Garrett slowed the pace. The Castle of the Campbell came into view on the horizon, a stone giant set against a star-spattered sky. The sight of it caused a knot of anger and hatred to form in Arya’s belly. She knew every corner and corridor of the structure, built by her great-grandfather and given to the new Lord of Argyll after the war with England ended. Her ancestors would turn over in their graves if they knew her clan was being forced to steal what was rightfully theirs.
“We’ll leave the horses here and walk the rest of the way,” Garrett said as he dismounted and handed his reins to one of his men. “Kevin, I want you and Hamish to wait here with the mounts. Have them ready when we return. Seamus, take two of our best archers and position them on the rocks above the burn.”
Seamus nodded. “That would be William and Arya.”
“I’ll not be staying back here while you go on without me.” Arya glared at Garrett. “No one knows the tunnels beneath the castle better than I do. I spent many a day playing in those very caverns when I was a wee lass visiting my grandfather.”
“She has a point,” Logan said.
“She’ll be safer here, and I can concentrate better if I know she is out of harm’s way. Your role as an archer is equally as important to the mission, Arya. You’ll stay here with Seamus and William,” Garrett replied. “We have a man on the inside who will show us the way if need be.”
“And what if he doesna turn up, or leaves you once you’ve gained entry? There is more than one corridor beneath the castle. What happens if you get lost and take the wrong one? It could cost you valuable time. Or even worse, you might get caught.”
“Again, she has a point, cousin. I say we let her show us the way,” Logan said.
“Fine. But if anything happens to her, I will hold you responsible, Logan. Allowing her to accompany us is against my better judgment.” Garrett blew out a heavy sigh, then turned to Arya. “You stay close to Logan and me. If anything goes awry, I want your word that you’ll get yourself out of there as quickly as possible. Dinna take any unnecessary chances. And you must heed my commands. The minute you dinna listen, you will return to the horses immediately. Is that clear?”
Arya nodded in agreement. Garrett was looking out for her safety, and she had no intention of doing anything to jeopardize herself or the others. “I understand and will obey your commands.” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she knew it was for the best. “But only this once,” she muttered under her bre
ath.
The three-story stone stronghold sat on the edge of a bluff, and a steep, rocky ravine with a rushing river running through it flanked the rear of the structure. A high curtain wall protected the front and sides, and the drawbridge leading into the bailey appeared well-guarded. Sentries carrying torches paced back and forth atop the parapets in plain sight, but it was the others, those lurking in the shadows, the ones they couldn’t see that posed the greatest threat.
“How do we get past the guards?” Logan whispered. “I thought you said getting into the keep would be easy.”
“We are slipping in through the postern entrance, not planning to march through the front gate. Once inside, if we remain in the shadows at the rear of the keep, and wait for precisely the right moment, our chances of going unnoticed are greatly improved. Most of the laird’s men are away, but there will still be a few we might have to deal with,” Garrett replied as the group moved closer to the castle. “You dinna expect he’d leave the place unguarded?”
“Nay, but you seem pretty confident. And you dinna answer my question,” Logan said. “How do we get past remaining sentries?”
“Dinna fash, I have a plan,” Garrett said.
When they reached a copse of trees at the back corner of the curtain wall, Garrett held up his arm, signaling for his men to halt.
“Now what?” Logan whispered.
“Torren told me the guards pass by this spot on the hour—”
“And you trust the bugger?” Logan shook his head.
“I dinna have much choice, but I have no reason to doubt his word. It was either take the risk or watch the bairns starve this winter. Torren told me to wait here and said he’d signal when the coast is clear. The door leading into the tunnels is about two hundred paces to the right of the gate, and he is going to leave it unlocked.”
