The Key

by Lynsay Sands

  A glance down into the bailey showed mass chaos reigned there. The cry of attack had rung out even as Angus had fallen beneath the arrow, and now the people, normally so stern and stoic, were rushing willy-nilly, looking for loved ones and children to be sure none had been caught outside of the walls. The noise was thunderous. No one would hear her call for help to move Angus. They were on their own.

  Feeling a hand grab her own, Iliana glanced back at Angus to find his eyes open, if a bit glazed. "Can you move under your own power?"

  He nodded grimly. "I'm a'right. 'Tis just a scratch."

  Iliana's mouth tightened at that. He sounded weak and breathless, and she knew that his claim was just male pride speaking. She peered back the way she had come, then ducked instinctively lower as another rain of arrows flew overhead. There was no question but that they had to get him off the wall and tend to his injury. She would have preferred dealing with it there on the spot, but arrows were still flying overhead and it was possible another one might find a target.

  "We cannot walk."

  Iliana glanced back at her mother's worried words.

  "I can so," Angus snapped, shifting as if to rise.

  Iliana stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "She said we cannot walk, not you," she explained quietly. "And she is right. We risk another arrow do we try. Even bent over, you are too tall to keep beneath the safety of the wall."

  "What do we do?"

  Iliana hesitated for a moment, then began to remove the plaid she wore over her undertunic.

  "What are you doing?" her mother asked with dismay.

  "We shall use this to drag him to the steps."

  "I can walk, I tell ye," Angus muttered faintly as she laid out her plaid flat on the stone parapet beside him, then shifted out of the way. "Think you you can roll onto your stomach on the plaid?"

  "I'll not be carried off the wall like--"

  "Stop being a stubborn old fool and roll onto the plaid. If my daughter is willing to run about half-naked in front of everyone, the least you can do is cooperate."

  Angus flushed at Lady Wildwood's reprimand but did as instructed, though not without grumbling about what the world was coming to when women thought they could order their laird about. Ignoring him, Iliana and her mother moved to crouch at the top of the plaid. Each of them taking a corner, they straightened until they stood half-upright, bent at the waist; then they began to move forward, tugging the plaid behind as they went.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Angus grumbled all the way to the stairs leading down to the bailey. Once there, he insisted on moving under his own steam, and actually managed to do so with a bit of assistance. With one arm across Iliana's shoulders and one over her mother's, they managed to walk him sideways down the stairs, then half-walk, half-carry him to the steps of the keep, but that was as far as they got him.

  Iliana and her mother wanted to take him inside to tend to his wound, but Angus would not hear of it. Not while his home was under attack. Giving in to his stubbornness, they sat him on the bottom step of the keep, so that he could shout orders at the few men who had been left behind while she and her mother worked on his injury.

  The arrow had entered his right shoulder from the back, directly beneath his collar bone, and made it three quarters of the way through his body before stopping. Knowing what they would have to do, the two women exchanged a grim glance.

  "Shall I fetch one of the men?" her mother asked.

  Iliana peered hopefully around as Angus bellowed toward a passing man, asking where Allistair was. The response was most disheartening. He had ridden out an hour before the attack. Iliana felt her heart sink as the man rushed toward the stairs, bow in hand, obviously heading to the wall to return some of the arrows that had been sent over the wall.

  The situation looked grim. There were very few men left behind to defend the keep, and most had been left because they were either too old or too young to be of much use in battle. Every single one of them was taken up with fending off their attackers at the moment, which left the women alone to deal with their laird's wound.

  "My lady!" Ebba rushed down the stairs, Elgin and Janna on her heels. "Thank God you are all right. I was in the kitchen when Janna ran in shouting that we were under attack, and then when Elgin said that ye, yer mother, and Lord Angus were up on the wall I thought sure--Oh!" The last word was a gasp as she saw the arrow.

  Pausing, she glanced over the two women once more to make sure that they, too, had not been injured, then whirled away, nearly running over Elgin and Janna as she charged back up the steps. "I shall fetch some linen to wrap the wound," she cried breathlessly before disappearing back inside the keep.

  "Ye'll need fresh water," Elgin decided, whirling to follow.

  "What would you have me do?" Janna asked anxiously.

  "Fetch Gertie. Have her bring her medicinals. Especially her sleeping potion."

  Nodding, the woman hurried to do her bidding, and Iliana glanced toward her father-in-law, slightly surprised to find him eyeing her suspiciously.

  "What would ye be wantin' a sleeping potion fer?"

  "I thought to give it to you ere removing the arrow."

  "The hell ye will!"

  "But we needs must push the arrow through the front to take it out."

  "I've been a warrior fer longer than ye've been alive, lass. I ken what ye have to do, but ye'll do it with me awake. We are under attack. Me men need me."

  Iliana glared at him briefly, then heaved a sigh and gestured for her mother to take position in front of the man to help brace him, even as she moved behind. Grasping the arrow carefully in her sweaty hands, she paused and glanced at his pale face. "Ready?"

  Angus braced his hands on his knees and started to nod, then shook his head. "I need some uisgebeatha first."

  "I shall fetch it." Lady Wildwood rushed after the servants.

  Angus immediately turned his attention to barking orders at this person and that as they flew by. Iliana envied him his ability to turn his mind from what was coming. She herself felt positively ill at the prospect of what she must do. Moments later, her mother came flying back down the stairs, Ebba, Gertie, Giorsal, Janna, and Elgin on her heels.

  Stopping in front of Angus, Lady Wildwood started to hand him the pitcher she had returned with, then paused to down some of the fiery liquid herself. The laird half-smiled and half-grimaced with pain as she began to splutter and cough.

  Iliana noticed all of this rather distractedly. Most of her attention was on Gertie as the servant examined the arrow protruding from the Dunbar's back.

  "He'll bleed," old woman announced.

  "Bleed?" Iliana asked warily.

  "Once the arrow is out of the way, he'll bleed."

  Lady Wildwood had been about to hand the pitcher to Angus again, but paused at those words to gulp some more of the liquid. Giorsal and Ebba began shredding the linen they had both brought into long narrow strips.

  "Do you have anything to slow the bleeding?" Iliana asked, slapping her mother's back when she began hacking again as the whiskey burnt its way down her throat.

  Gertie pursed her lips. "Pressure."

  "Pressure?"

  She nodded. "Hold the blood in."

  Lady Wildwood groaned and tipped the pitcher to her lips again.

  "Mother!" Iliana bit out impatiently, noting the wistful way Angus was watching her mother devour his liquor.

  "Sorry, dear," she gasped, a chagrined look on her face as she handed the half-empty pitcher to Angus.

  Grunting, he lifted the pitcher to his lips, downing a goodly portion in one chug before straightening and bracing his arms on his legs. "Do it."

  Wishing she could have a swig of the liquid herself, Iliana gestured to her mother and Elgin. Both moved to press their hands to his shoulders to help hold him in place.

  Assured that all was ready, she took a deep breath, brushed her suddenly damp hands down the skirt of her tunic, then grasped the arrow. Silently counting t
o three, she took another breath, then began to push with all her might, nearly groaning aloud when Angus stiffened and began to bellow.

  His roar of pain ended when she stopped pressing on the arrow. One glance at her mother's tear-streaked face told her that she had not succeeded. While the tip of the arrow had pushed deeper, it had not yet pierced the other side. Eyes blurring with her own tears, Iliana readjusted her stance and immediately began to push again, this time putting all her weight behind it.

  Angus cried out as the arrow finally tore through and out, his shout ending on a string of curses that were muttered in a much fainter voice.

  Stepping to the side, Iliana grasped the arrow where it still protruded from his back. Hands shaking with the effort and eyes blurring with her own tears, she tried to snap it in two. It took three tries for her to break the stem of the arrow. Iliana was sobbing by then with each groan from her father-in-law as the shaft shifted in his body. When it finally broke in two, she dropped the end with the flights on it, then stepped around to stand before him, pausing there to brush her hand across her eyes so that she could see.

  "Whist, lass, I'm the one who should be crying," Angus chided gently.

  Iliana glanced at his face then, frightened by the gray tinge to it and amazed when he managed to offer her a weak grin.

  "Go ahead, finish it," he whispered.

  Straightening her shoulders, she grasped the arrowhead and pulled it out with one clean jerk, then stepped quickly out of the way as Gertie and Elgin applied cloths and pressure to the wound.

  Iliana watched dully as the others worked over him, applying pressure, then the salves; one to clean the wound, and one to encourage healing. Then Gertie quickly stitched and bandaged him front and back.

  Once it was finished, the others stepped back to eye him worriedly. Despite Gertie's quick work, he had lost a good deal of bood. Even his lips seemed gray now.

  "Are ye done?" he asked, grimacing.

  Gertie nodded solemnly.

  "Good. Then I'd best see to our visitors." He pushed himself off the steps then, swaying but managing to gain his feet, much to the amazement of the people surrounding him. He even managed a shaky step forward. Then he collapsed like a tree under the ax.

  Crying out, Iliana and the others hurried to catch him as he pitched forward, then gently eased his unconscious form to the ground.

  "Laird!" Willie, the stablemaster's son, came to a shuddering halt before them, eyes wide in horror as he saw that the man would be of little assistance.

  "What is it?" Iliana asked impatiently.

  The boy hesitated, then seemed to decide there was little harm in telling her. "My father sent me to tell the laird that the English are erecting a causeway. Once 'tis done, they will no doubt either ram the bridge or set it afire.

  Iliana frowned and glanced toward her unconscious father-in-law.

  "Go," her mother murmured. "See what you can do. You are in charge now."

  Iliana stiffened in dismay, for her mother was right. With Angus out of action and her husband away, she was in charge. Even Allistair was not there to relieve her of the burden. 'Twas a frightening realization, made more so by the anxious expressions on the faces of those around her.

  Realizing she had no choice, Iliana gathered her courage. "Where is your father?" she asked at last.

  "On the wall."

  "Go," her mother repeated when Iliana glanced toward her uncertainly. "We shall see Angus to his room."

  Nodding unhappily, Iliana turned to walk toward the stairs she and her mother had helped Angus down not more than half an hour earlier. Aware that Willie was lagging behind, she glanced back at him sternly. "Pick up your feet, lad," she ordered with as much authority as she could muster. "'Tis not a Sunday picnic we are heading to."

  The boy's eyebrows rose at that and he did speed up to walk beside her. He even managed to look a little less positive that they were doomed.

  One glance down the wall when she reached the stablemaster's side told Iliana that this was not a problem that could wait for her father-in-law to regain consciousness.

  Greenweld was below. She recognized him in his armor. He was mounted and shouting orders at the men building the causeway across the moat.

  "If they finish that, they'll be within the walls in no time," the stablemaster announced as she straightened. "They'll set fire to the bridge and gate."

  "Aye." Iliana racked her brain for a solution.

  "Our arrows are no good with that barricade over their heads," he informed her helpfully.

  "I realize that." Iliana sighed, then glanced toward the mound of boulders in the inner bailey. The men had just managed to finish the wall ere leaving on the expedition to rescue Seonaid. That was a blessing. They would have been in quite a spot had they not. Still, there was stone left.

  Iliana remained silent for a moment, her mind working over the problem that had been presented to her. Her gaze slid to the rocks again. Most of them were too large for the idea forming in her mind, but the smaller ones would do quite nicely.

  "Collect as many men as you think you will need and fetch that rock up here."

  "Rock?" He peered where she pointed dubiously.

  "The smaller one on the edge of the pile," she explained.

  "I don't think--"

  "Do it."

  "But 'twill take at least six men to get it up here."

  "Then take six men," she responded promptly. "And send four more to the kitchens with two long posts to fetch Elgin's vat of stew up here as well."

  "The cook's stew?" He goggled at her.

  "You heard me."

  "Aye, but--That will leave only two men up here to keep shooting arrows at--"

  "There is nothing to shoot at, sir," she pointed out dryly. "As you have said, they cannot shoot through the barricade, and the others are out of range. Now, stop questioning me and do as I have ordered. I have a plan."

  Rabbie opened his mouth to argue further with her, caught a glimpse of her stubborn expression, and thought better of it. Closing his mouth on a sigh of resignation, he turned and moved away, shaking his head.

  Iliana watched him go, then peered down on the Englishmen again, watching them work until she heard a series of muttered curses coming from the steps.

  "Be careful! Ye'll spill the--Damn ye fool men!"

  Iliana whirled toward the stairs at those harassed words from Elgin, who had apparently accompanied the product of his labors.

  "Me lady!" Elgin's florid face came into view as he mounted the last of the steps. Wringing the hem of his apron in his hands, he hurried toward her. "These buffoons came charging into the kitchens, slid those damn posts under the handle of my vat, and started to leave with it. When I asked what they were about, they claimed ye wanted it up here. I told them they must be mistaken--"

  "They told you true," Iliana soothed, patting his shoulder gently. Stepping past him, she instructed the four men to set the vat of steaming liquid down as close to the wall as possible to make as much room as they could for the six men huffing and puffing along behind them, carrying the boulder she had requested.

  "Where do ye want it?" the stablemaster gasped breathlessly as soon as he and the other men had maneuvered gingerly past the steaming vat.

  "Set it on the wall, directly in the center," Iliana instructed, then turned to the four men still standing by the vat. "I would like that on the wall right next to it."

  That they followed her instructions at once was good, but the exchanged looks made her grimace. She was not a stupid woman, nor was she mad, and the fact that they had not yet caught onto her plan was rather irritating.

  "Me lady?" Elgin was glancing from her to the vat that was teetering dangerously on the edge of the wall, looking nearly ready to burst into tears. Iliana smiled at him gently and patted his shoulder once more.

  "Do not fret, Elgin. All will be well."

  "But me stew..."

  Iliana's mouth thinned out into a straight line. "We have gu
ests at the door. Would you turn them away without at least offering them some sustenance?"

  His eyes widened in horror at that, but the other men suddenly began to grin as they understood her intentions. Iliana turned toward Rabbie.

  "The rock first to smash the barricade and causeway. Count to three, then tip the vat after it."

  "Me stew," Elgin whimpered, twisting his apron more frantically.

  "'Twill be put to good use, Elgin," Iliana murmured sympathetically.

  "Aye." The stablemaster grinned at the cook as he and two of the other men shifted in preparation of pushing the boulder off the wall. "'Twill be a meal those English dogs'll not soon forget." Pausing, he glanced toward the men now manning the vat. "Remember, on the count of three."

  Iliana took a step to the side and leaned over to peer down the wall as they pushed the rock off. It plummeted downward so swiftly there was little chance for those watching to shout a warning. The crash as it smashed into the barricade was incredibly loud, the screams of the unfortunate men in its path louder still as the entire structure shuddered and collapsed beneath. Stew poured down over the now unprotected men.

  "Me vat!" Elgin cried as it followed the stew, the men unable to hold the hot vessel. His voice was drowned out by their cheers, however, when the heavy metal vat crashed through the causeway, sending it shuddering and collapsing into the moat, taking a great many of the men below with it.

  Iliana herself was silent as she stared at the devastation below. Dead or dying men were strewn about like fallen chess pieces, their moans rising to batter her ears. A few of the men who had waited in the cover of the woods charged forward to aid their fallen comrades, and Iliana's men immediately loosed arrows upon them. They would give no quarter.

  Turning away, she muttered something about checking on Lord Angus and walked blindly back toward the stairs, nearly stumbling into her mother.

  Lady Wildwood took one look at Iliana's stark face, then raised the pitcher she had brought with her. "Here. Have some of this." Unwilling to be denied, she lifted the pitcher to Iliana's lips herself, and tipped it up. The fiery liquid poured down her throat, burning a path into her belly. Iliana tugged her head away after a few swallows to splutter and cough.

  Lady Wildwood thumped her back hearteningly, watching her face with concern and muttering, "Well, at least you have some color back in you."