by Katy Baker
“So whatever their plan is, it involves that piece of land.”
He nodded. “We need to get to Dun Garnon. And fast.”
LIGHT WAS LEAKING OVER the horizon, heralding a new day, as they thundered away from the safe house.
If ye can even call it a new day, Callum thought as he spurred the horse into a gallop. The clouds were so thick, the light so gloomy, that it seemed more like twilight than the bright spring morning it should have been.
There was something oppressive in the air, like a thunderstorm that hung over the land but would not break.
Urgency churned in his gut. Finally, they’d discovered the clue they’d been looking for. Finally, they had a chance to get ahead of their enemies. He couldn’t afford to squander this opportunity.
In front of him, Sophie rode with a look of fierce determination on her face, staring straight ahead, as eager to stop Rochford as he was.
Ah, his Sophie. His heart swelled as he looked at her. He could still hardly believe she was his. He could still hardly believe that this brilliant, brave, intelligent woman loved him. What had he done to deserve such good fortune?
Heat bloomed in his stomach at the thought of what they’d done last night. He’d made love to her over and over again, his appetite never being sated and Sophie’s passion matching his own. He knew his appetite for her would never dim. Even now, with all that faced them, with the urgency of their mission, he felt desire stir in his groin as he watched her.
He pushed it away. He could not afford to let it distract him.
They rode all through the morning, avoiding settlements wherever possible and taking detours to keep off the main roads. Rochford would know that they had his map and would know where they would head next. He would be after them and their only hope was to get to Dun Garnon ahead of him.
Afternoon was wearing away and the horse was flecked with foam and stumbling with exhaustion by the time Dun Garnon came into view in the distance. Callum reined in and stood in the stirrups, scanning the area. Smoke rose from Dun Garnon’s chimneys and people toiled in the fields.
He nudged the horse into motion again, trotting down the road and through the village to the gates. He kept his eyes peeled and his hand on his sword hilt. Although there was nothing to indicate anything was wrong, he knew appearances could be deceptive. If Rochford and his men had made it here ahead of him...
“Callum Sutherland!” a voice boomed.
Murdoch MacKay was waiting for them by the gates. “And Lady Sophie too! Well, stone me! Twice in as many months! To what do we owe this honor?”
Callum pulled up the horse and dismounted. He strode up to Murdoch and gripped his old friend’s wrist.
“It’s good to see ye, Murdoch. How did ye know we were coming?”
“Didnae,” Murdoch replied. “I was just coming back from the stables when one of the lads on the gate said someone in Sutherland plaid was approaching. Didnae think it would be the laird himself. Obviously canna keep away, eh?”
“Nay,” Callum replied. He stepped close so the guards on the gate couldn’t hear. “Especially when there are things to discuss.”
Murdoch’s expression turned serious. “I know it, lad,” he said in a low voice. “I knew as soon as I saw ye riding here that somewhat must be wrong. Come inside, the both of ye.” Then in a loud, jovial voice he boomed, “Who can blame ye for wishing to experience the famous MacKay hospitality so soon?”
The guards grinned, obviously used to their laird’s boisterous bluster. Callum helped Sophie to dismount and then walked by Murdoch’s side, leading the horse. They entered the bailey where Callum handed the horse over to a stable hand with an instruction to take extra good care of the exhausted beast, then followed Murdoch inside.
Elspeth met them at the threshold of the great hall. “Callum! Sophie!” she exclaimed. “What—?”
“Upstairs, woman,” Murdoch cut in. “My study, not the hall.”
Elspeth took one look at the expression on her husband’s face and nodded. They hurried up the stairs and along the corridor to the large, circular room set in one of Dun Garnon’s towers that Murdoch used as his personal study.
Murdoch shut the door behind them and locked it.
“We willnae be disturbed here.” He looked from Callum to Sophie and back again. “So. What’s happened?”
Callum paced to the window and looked out. The clouds still hung low in the sky, the day still gloomy. The only saving grace was that the rain had held off.
“We’ve found them,” he said. “We’ve found the Disinherited.”
Murdoch said nothing, glancing at Sophie uneasily.
“It’s all right,” Callum reassured him. “Sophie knows everything. In fact, she was the one who found them.”
“It seems things have moved on a pace since the last time we met,” Murdoch observed, rubbing his whiskered chin. “Ye’ve really found them? Where? How?”
“Ye willnae like the answer,” Callum warned him. “Robert Rochford leads the group we discovered and I’ve nay doubt that his brother, the earl, is involved too.”
“What?” Murdoch exploded. “Rochford is Disinherited? But I gave him shelter under this very roof! My daughter was engaged to the earl!” His face went dark with anger. “Are ye telling me I entertained the enemy in my own home?”
Callum nodded somberly.
“I’ll kill him!” Murdoch exploded. “That snake! He must have been laughing behind my back the whole time!”
“Easy, husband,” Elspeth said, laying a calming hand on Murdoch’s arm. “Let’s hear Callum’s story before ye go declaring war on our neighbors.”
“Ye are not to blame,” Callum said to his friend. “I didnae suspect Rochford either, even after his dishonorable attack on Sophie right beneath this roof. There is also no reason to suspect they know ye are a member of the Order.”
“Why else would Earl Rochford, Robert’s brother, want to marry Catherine?” Murdoch snapped. “Other than to get his claws into the Order’s secrets?”
“I think it’s something else he’s interested in. Something Catherine’s dowry would have brought him.”
“There was naught of the Order’s in Catherine’s dowry, I promise ye that,” Murdoch said.
“Maybe nothing ye were aware of,” Callum replied. “But something he showed an interest in—and has continued to show an interest in even after the betrothal contract was dissolved.”
Murdoch stared at him. Anger still glinted in the old warrior’s eyes and not for the first time Callum found himself glad he was not his enemy. Understanding dawned on Murdoch’s rugged face. “The land on my southern border!”
“Exactly. Can ye think of any reason why Earl Rochford would be so keen to get his hands on it?”
“None,” Murdoch replied. “To my knowledge it hasnae been worked for years and is no good for farming.” He fixed Callum with his hard gaze. “I think ye better tell me what’s going on, Callum. And start from the beginning.”
Callum nodded. He told Murdoch and Elspeth about Alfred’s body washing up on the river bank and its grizzly message. He described what Sophie had discovered in Barric and Magda’s field, of how Rochford had tried to ensure her silence by pushing her into the river. He related Rochford’s subsequent kidnapping of Sophie and his rescue of her. He finished by explaining what they’d found in Rochford’s strongbox—the map showing part of Murdoch’s land.
By the time his tale had finished Murdoch’s expression had gone dark with suppressed fury. “That bastard,” he growled. “He canna be allowed to get away with this. I say we rouse the Order, call our banners and march on the bastard’s castle.”
Callum shook his head. “As much as I wish to see them brought to justice, ye know we canna do that. We have no proof. It would be seen as an unprovoked attack and only rouse the lowland lords against us. Rochford might even have the audacity to petition the king against us. Nay, we have to discover what is on this land of yers that has them so intereste
d. That’s the only way we can work out how to stop him.”
Murdoch rubbed his chin, raking his fingers through his beard. “Aye, ye are right. But I’ve already told ye, there’s naught on that land of any value.”
“When was the last time ye rode out to that land?” Elspeth asked. “I’ll wager ye havenae been out that way in thirty years or more.”
“Aye, more probably,” Murdoch agreed. “There are no settlements nearby and so no taxes to collect. It’s been left to its own devices for a long time.”
“Well mayhap it’s time we reacquainted ourselves with what’s there,” Elspeth replied. “And if I’m not mistaken, it’s all laid out in the king’s charters isnae it?”
Murdoch smiled at his wife. “Ye know, my dear, I knew I didnae marry ye just for yer looks.”
Elspeth didn’t deign to reply to this comment. Instead she crossed the solar to a large cupboard built into the wall. She fished out a key that hung on a thong around her neck and unlocked the cupboard. Inside were several shelves, all stacked with rolled scrolls, each shelf labelled neatly in Elspeth’s own hand. She leaned forward, examining the shelves and it took only a moment to find what she was looking for. Taking out a scroll, she crossed to the table and unrolled it, pinning down each corner with candlesticks. Callum joined Sophie and Murdoch as they crowded around, examining the scroll.
It was indeed a charter, listing the grants of land given to the MacKay clan following the culmination of the Wars of Independence. Callum ran his eyes over the words, trying to decipher it, but the script was faded and small, difficult to read.
Fifteen acres of land west of the Broadwash for pasturage.
Deeds to the mill and Upton Lake and its environs.
“Look,” Elspeth said. She leaned close, squinting at the faded writing. “This details the grant of land on our southwest border. It says, four acres of marshland as far as Raker’s Edge and—” She paused suddenly.
“And what?” Callum asked.
She glanced up, looking first at Callum and then at Murdoch. “And one lead mine, abandoned.”
“That’s it!” Sophie cried. “That’s how he’s doing it.”
They turned to look at her. “What do ye mean?” Callum asked.
Sophie ran a hand through her hair. “It all makes sense now. The symptoms of those who’ve fallen sick are all consistent with lead poisoning. They’ve managed to get it into the water somehow, contaminating the soil and the crops.”
Callum shook his head. “I dinna understand. How can lead cause such a thing? It’s a metal.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But a very dangerous metal. I don’t know how much is understood about lead poisoning in this century but in my time it’s well known that if exposed to it for too long or if it’s ingested, it can cause serious health problems—and death.”
“This century? Yer time?” Murdoch asked, his eyebrows lowering into a frown. “What do ye mean by that?”
Callum waved away his question. “I’ll explain later.” He looked at Sophie. “Ye are sure about this?”
She nodded. “Irene brought me here for a reason—I think this is it. Callum, we have to get over there and stop him.”
“If ye are sure, then that is good enough for me.” He turned to Murdoch and Elspeth. “How long will it take to get to that mine?”
“A day maybe,” Murdoch replied. “It’s right on the border.” He shook his shaggy head. “I dinna understand any of this. Ye are saying that Rochford is somehow using my old mine against us?”
“Aye,” Callum replied. “I’ve seen first hand that Rochford wields the power of the Unseelie. Who’s to say what secrets they’ve shown him down there? Who’s to say what he’s discovered? All I know for sure is that we have to get there and stop him.”
At mention of the Unseelie, Murdoch’s face darkened. “Aye. We do. We’ll ride immediately—”
“Not ye, my friend.”
“Not me?” Murdoch spluttered. “Ye young pup! If ye think I’m going to sit here whilst the leader of my Order rides into battle ye have another think coming!”
“The leader of yer Order commands ye to stay behind,” Callum said. He spoke calmly but put steel in his words as he faced Murdoch down. “If I fall,” he added in a softer tone. “Ye will carry on the fight. Ye will rouse the Order and bring the Disinherited to battle. I trust nobody else with this responsibility.”
Murdoch said nothing for a long time. He seemed to be battling with himself. Finally, he nodded. “Aye, my lord,” he said, inclining his head respectfully to his commander. “I will do as ye command.” Then the formality dropped from his tone. “But, lad? Ye had better bloody come back from this or I’ll wring yer neck myself.”
A wry smile twisted Callum’s lips. “I’ll do my best. Send out riders to all our safe houses. Instruct as many members of the Order that can reach here by sundown today to do so. We ride tonight.”
Murdoch nodded. “It will be done.” He cocked his head. “Ah, lad. The Seelie chose well in ye. Yer father would be proud.”
That old familiar pain rose in Callum’s chest. “I can only hope to walk in his footsteps. Now, let’s get to work.”
THE DAY PASSED IN A blur of activity. Callum spent the day with Murdoch, sending out messengers, tallying weapons, going through options of attack and possible retreat. They watched from the battlements as a rider wearing the red and green of the Order came galloping down the road towards the gate.
So it begins, he thought.
“They’re starting to arrive,” Murdoch said. “We’d better go greet them.”
They descended the battlements to the bailey where the rider was swinging down from his horse. The man went to one knee when he saw Callum approaching.
“My sword is yers, my lord,” he said, bowing his head.
“Get up, Peter!” Callum said, unable to stop a broad grin creeping across his face. “Since when have ye been one to stand on ceremony?”
Peter rose to his feet with a grin of his own. He was a big man, taller even than Callum, and he was heavily armed with numerous weapons strapped around his body. In recent years he’d been working as a mercenary, his employers never suspecting where his true loyalties lay.
“Since I heard we’d finally found the bastards,” he replied in his thick lowlander accent. “Is it true? We’ll finally bring the Disinherited to battle?”
“It’s true,” Callum replied with a nod. “Ye have my thanks for getting here so quickly.”
Peter’s eyebrows rose. He lifted his arm to display the tattoo on the inside of his wrist—the osprey identical to Callum and Murdoch’s. “Did ye doubt it?”
“Never, my friend,” Callum replied, gripping Peter’s arm in the warrior grip. “Never.”
Throughout the course of the day more and more of the Order began to arrive. Murdoch sequestered them all in the great hall and banned everyone else from entry lest word of the gathering leak out to their enemies. Even though they were within the walls of Dun Garnon, after what had happened with Rochford the last time Callum was here, Murdoch was taking no chances with spies.
By the time the sun was beginning to set, over seventy members of the Order had gathered, more than Callum had dared to hope for. They assembled in the bailey and Callum looked them over from atop the steps. Murdoch stood on one side, Sophie the other. A thrill of trepidation and excitement went through him. The time had come.
“My friends!” he cried, raising his sword and holding it aloft. “We swore an oath! We swore to protect Alba against her enemies! Today is the day we fulfil that vow! Today is the day the Order of the Osprey rides to war! Who’s with me?”
The roar of approval was deafening.
Chapter 16
Sophie couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at Dun Garnon as she, Callum, and the rest of the Order rode away. Murdoch and Elspeth stood at the gate, watching them go. In the gathering gloom Murdoch’s expression was shadowed and Sophie understood how much it cost him to stay beh
ind when his vow would be demanding he ride by Callum’s side to meet their enemies. But she also knew that he would obey Callum’s command and stay behind. Dun Garnon had been put on high alert and guards manned the battlements, their weapons glinting in the torches that burned on the walls.
They were wary of attack now that Rochford had been discovered and neither man was willing to leave Dun Garnon unprepared. Sophie hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She hoped that they would find the mine and be able to stop Rochford without bloodshed.
Who are you kidding? she thought as she glanced around at the other members of the Order. They were like Callum: born warriors with the look of the predator about them. They rode in silence, with grim, determined expressions on their faces and their hands were never far from their weapons.
Sophie swallowed thickly and, as Dun Garnon was lost in the gathering darkness, she turned to face the front, to face the danger they were riding into.
Callum was a dark, brooding presence, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. His men rode in a phalanx around him, the only sound the thunder of hooves and the jingle of tack as they raced across the uplands towards the south.
They rode through the night, stopping only a handful of times to check the route and to water the horses before moving on again. If anyone in the crofts and villages saw them ride by, they raised no alarm, probably thinking they were dreaming or else imagining this host of ghosts passing quickly and silently through their land.
Dawn was just beginning to turn the eastern horizon pink when Callum finally called a halt. They had reached the summit of an escarpment, a high ridge of chalk that rose from the land like some dragon’s spine. Below, the land fell away abruptly into the marshes to the south. Callum guided the horse to the edge of the escarpment and gazed out.
Sophie squinted into the distance, searching the dark landscape until she spotted something. Firelight. Below lay some kind of wide enclosure ringed around with torches. Even at this early hour, the place was busy with men.
