Harcourt joined the others in laughing. He knew what Sir Adam saw. A huge, shaggy-haired oaf. It was Bear’s best weapon. Bear was a head taller than him, and very muscular which, for reasons Harcourt did not understand, appeared to make people believe the man had to be witless as well as if somehow having a body that big and strong stole something from the man’s mind. Harcourt had been guilty of thinking the man some slow-witted overgrown fellow himself when he had first seen him, an opinion that had changed the moment he had looked into those sharp green eyes.
“I wish to parlay with her, fool. Now, fetch her.”
“Nay sure she wants to speak to ye what with ye coming here with an army and threatening her and all.”
“Get her!”
“As ye wish.” Bear just stared at Sir Adam for a moment before saying in a low, hard voice that somehow carried down to the knight and all his men. “I am thinking ye would be wise to back away a wee bit ere one of us gives in to the temptation to end this here and now.”
Sir Adam backed away as did his men and Bear nodded. “Wise lad. Now we will see if our lady is inclined to talk to you.”
Harcourt signaled to a waiting Gavin and the boy scrambled off the wall to go find Annys. He had known Sir Adam would want to offer something to try to gain the keep without raising a sweat. He also knew that, no matter how badly Annys wanted to avoid a fight that could cost some of her people their lives, she would not simply hand over Glencullaich. She would refuse to do that, not just for herself or Benet but for the people. It was one of the reasons he loved her, he thought, and was startled by that realization. It was a very poor time to have it.
“She willnae give us up,” said Bear.
“Nay, I ken it, although her heart will break with every drop of blood her people lose.” He looked at Bear. “This is what her people want, aye? To fight?”
“Och, aye, right down to the last bairn old enough to speak its mind. It has been peaceful here so long ye cannae find anyone alive who has kenned different, but it was nay always this way. The tales are passed down and the graveyard tells the same story. Glencullaich used to be ruled by ones like that oaf down there. Ones who fought with everyone and committed near every crime ye can think of. Then the laird’s twig of the clan tree took o’er and it all stopped. Pious lot but they brought peace to this place, made it prosperous, and no one here wants a return of the battles, the feuds, the raids, and the lairds who wasted the lives of their men as they did their coin.”
Bear looked at the army in front of the walls again. “These are nay our people e’en if there are some MacQueens amongst them. They dinnae care about those bairns and women in the nursery, the lads too young to fight setting buckets of water and sand near anything that might catch fire. That greedy fool sitting there waiting to talk to our lady only cares that this land can fill his purse with more money to buy whores and fine clothes. Och, aye, we will all fight because we want what we have—a good life and kenning the laird cares for each and every one of us.”
Harcourt nodded. He also studied the army spread out before them. There were the men with the scaling ladders just behind the archers. It would begin with a rain of arrows. In the confusion caused by that, the men on the walls and elsewhere simply trying to stay alive, the ladders would be set up against the walls. Their chance to fight back would come only when the men on the ladders began to obstruct the archers. It was going to be bloody and the fact that there was little he could do to change that enraged him. The sound of the bell announcing Annys headed up to the walls was all that stopped him from giving in to the urge to order Geordie to put an arrow through Sir Adam’s black heart now.
“Oh, sweet mother of God.”
It took every last shred of control Harcourt had not to pull Annys into his arms to try to comfort her. She stared out at the army, her eyes wide with shock, and her face as white as frost. Even she, with no knowledge of wars and tactics, could see that they were badly outnumbered. Bear patted her on the back and, that quickly, a thread of amusement broke his deep concern for her. A movement of her skirts told him she had braced herself the moment Bear had moved his hand toward her but she didn’t flinch. It was clear to see that she had been patted by Bear before and knew it was necessary to brace herself or risk being knocked over.
“It will be fine, m’lady,” Bear said. “Ne’er forget, everyone stands with ye. Every single person in Glencullaich.”
“Thank ye, Bear. ’Tis good to hear. And, dinnae worry, I ken what this is about. ’Tis nay just me. Nay e’en just about Benet. ’Tis about holding fast to what we all have. ’Tis for Glencullaich.” She was surprised to hear a ripple of hearty agreement go along the walls as each man there heard what was being said.
Straightening her shoulders, Annys stepped close to the wall and stared down at Sir Adam. He looked quite handsome on his horse but she knew that handsomeness truly was only skin deep. Below that covering, in his heart and soul, he was vain and greedy.
“Good morning, Cousin,” she said, infusing as much cheerfulness into her voice as she could muster. “I hear ye have something ye wish to say to me.”
Sir Adam rode a little closer again. “This can end here and now,” he said. “There is nay a need for your people to be harmed or the property damaged in any way. Hand over Glencullaich to the rightful heir and ye can leave unharmed, as can your hired swords.”
“Hired swords?” She looked around. “I have no hired swords, sir. That appears to be your way, but it isnae mine. I have merely friends who seek to aid a poor, defenseless woman against someone who wishes to take what isnae his.”
“I am the rightful heir! Nay that boy! We all ken David wasnae the sire.”
“We do? I believe ye are the only one who keeps saying that.”
“Because ’tis the truth! We all ken that Sir Robert MacLeoid gelded him years ago.”
Annys stared at the man, an icy chill flowing through her body. David had once said that he always wondered how Sir Robert MacLeoid and his men had come to hunt him down, that he was almost certain he had never bedded the man’s wife. He had doubts only because he knew he had been a randy fool, often drank too much, and did not have the best recollection of what women he had bedded. Despite that, he had never been able to dismiss an unease about the attack. Now she knew why. Sir Adam had set MacLeoid on David. It was entirely possible that David had been brutally punished for a crime he had never committed. It was also now evident that Sir Adam had been trying to rid Glencullaich of heirs for a very long time.
“Gelded?” she asked, and tapped her chin with one finger as if considering the possibility. “Being that I am a lady and cannae use certain words, let me just assure ye of your error with the assertion that David was a mon. Fully, completely, and utterly a mon. As his wife, I believe I would be the best one to ken that fact, aye?”
“Ye have two choices, woman. Ye freely give o’er Glencullaich to me or ye watch your people die.”
“Actually, there is another choice. I could say nay and watch ye and your army fall before my walls.”
“Ye think ye can win this battle?”
There was no hint of her fear or uncertainty in her voice when she replied, “Aye. So I give ye two choices now, sir. Ride away home or die. Here. In a vain, foolish attempt to steal this land.” She turned and started to leave only to turn back, glare down at Sir Adam, and point to the gravestone visible at the top of the hill overlooking them all. “And look there, Sir Adam, for there lies the mon ye had murdered. He will be watching, waiting to see ye pay for what ye have done and now try to do. And I mean to let him see ye die, here, on this ground while he watches over it all!”
She turned and marched away, stumbling only a little when the men on the walls cheered and banged their swords on their shields. Just as she stepped inside the door, out of sight of the men on the walls, she felt the first tear slide down her cheek. It would begin now. There was no way every man on those walls could survive and she had to find a way to accept tha
t, to not bury herself in blame for it all. She gave a start when a piece of linen was placed in her hand and she looked up to find Joan watching her.
“Dinnae ye dare take this on your own shoulders, Annys,” Joan said as she took her by the hand and led her down the steps. “’Tis all on that bastard’s head. We heard him. T’was him that got David hurt, although I would wager his plan was for David to die. I also suspicion ’tis him that prevented us from getting Nigel back or e’en kenning his fate. And it wasnae just the men on the walls cheering when ye said our laird will be watching him die. We all did.”
Everyone was so fierce in the defense of Glencullaich, Annys thought. She needed to share that strength. Stopping when they reached her bedchamber, she patted her hair to make certain it was not too windblown and brushed down her skirts. Bellowed commands and a clatter against the walls of the keep made her tense but she shook aside the urge to go look.
“Best we get to work then, Joan,” she said. “It has begun.”
Harcourt watched Adam ride back to his men and start yelling orders. He cursed when he saw that the man had armed other men with bows, increasing the number of archers he had. The twenty hired archers were still the ones who needed to be taken down first, however. For now, their job was to stay alive until the rain of arrows about to descend upon them ended. The moment he saw the archers pull back on their bowstrings, he yelled out the command to take cover. Even as he crouched next to the wall and held his shield up to cover himself, he watched Bear get down off the walls with a grace and agility that was astonishing in a man of that size.
“Bastard needs killing,” grumbled Nathan from his side. “Needed it years ago if I am guessing the full meaning of what he was yelling at your lady.”
“Aye. I believe he set the jealous husband on David.” He winced as a cry from farther down the walls told him someone had been injured already. “Suspicion he thought the mon would just kill him.”
“Ladders up,” Nathan murmured when the clatter of wood on stone echoed all around them.
“Be ready. The moment the rain stops, on your feet with sword in hand,” he said to the man on his right. “Pass it down.” He could hear Nathan saying the same to the man next to him.
The sound of the deadly fall of arrows faded away minutes later. Harcourt used as much speed as he dared to rise to his feet, sword in hand. He had barely adjusted his shield to cover his chest when a man began to scramble over the wall. The man swung his sword but was in too awkward a position to be a real threat. Harcourt knocked the man’s sword aside and slammed him in the face with his shield. The man’s scream as he lost his balance and fell to the ground brought Harcourt no joy.
Cries from the men on the walls as well as from the ones they were sending to the ground filled the air. Harcourt could not afford to check on the men who fought with him, however, as Sir Adam was sending his men to the walls without pause. Considering the number of them plummeting to the ground to die or who were dead before they got there, Harcourt had to wonder why the men did not just stop no matter how much Sir Adam yelled at them. They were not MacQueens and he doubted Sir Adam paid that well. Then he saw Clyde on a horse, riding back and forth behind the men, his sword out, and several equally armed, grim-faced men riding with him. Clyde was driving the men forward like cattle to the slaughter.
Then he saw the arrow fly over their heads, the arrow’s tip a ball of flame, and cursed. “Geordie! Skewer those bastards!”
“Trying!”
Harcourt watched as the women and young boys, even some of the older girls, poured out of the keep to make sure no fire got a good start. Although he had to admire how efficiently they worked together, his heart clenched with dread. They were now in reach of the arrows. Refusing to let that prey on his mind, he turned back to the fight to keep the enemy from clearing the walls.
Annys tied off the bandage on the arm of the man who looked far too young to have been fighting on the walls, swinging a sword as he faced the enemy. Since the wound was not in his sword arm, he was already talking about getting back into the fight causing the girl who so plainly adored him to weep. Annys felt like doing the same.
Actually, what she truly wanted to do was become some great warrior, grab a sword, march out to confront Sir Adam, and start slicing off pieces of him until he was dead. Then she would put all of the pieces in a sack to send it to his father. It would be a message that man would not scorn or ignore. One he would fully understand, as would the other MacQueens who were helping Adam.
“Ye will rest until at least the morrow,” she told the young man. “Ye lost a lot of blood and need to replenish it. Agnes,” she said to the young girl, “ye will take young Auley here to the kitchens and feed him.”
“Aye, m’lady.” Agnes took Auley by the arm as he sat up straighter and began to cautiously stand up.
“But,” Auley began only to sway and need Agnes’s arm around his waist to steady him.
Annys nodded. “As I said, ye have bled a lot and need both rest and food. Off ye go and dinnae e’en think of climbing back on those walls until the morning.” As she watched the couple leave, she felt Joan move to stand beside her. “How many?”
“Two dead. Could be four soon although they are doing weel enough so there is hope. Bad wounds though and bled a lot. Five who are wounded badly enough that, unless this lasts a fortnight which I pray it will not, they will nay be fighting again. Six, including Auley, who will return after they rest and eat. Except for a few wee bruises and scrapes, none of the ones who went out to fight the fires got hurt. It helped that Geordie was lessening the numbers shooting those wretched things.”
“Anything burned badly?”
“Nay. Everything was too wet to catch quick and the ones who rushed out were quick to fair drown any of those arrows that landed. Big Mary quietly picks up every arrow and takes them up to Geordie, the only truly skilled archer we have, and, I am thinking, a mon our Big Mary has decided will be hers.”
“Let us pray he remains uninjured then.” She looked around. “I have ne’er actually hated anyone before. Disliked, disrespected, mayhap. Just wanted to avoid, aye. But, I hate Sir Adam MacQueen. Loathe him and want him dead. Something else I have ne’er wished for anyone.”
“And ’tis certain ye will ne’er feel wither way ever again so I wouldnae worry on it.” Joan shook her head. “If that mon fell into the hands of the people here right now, he would be torn apart. Do ye think they would e’er do that to anyone, ever?”
“Nay!”
“Exactly. But they would do it to him in a heartbeat, so dinnae fret o’er how ye feel. Right now all these people see is that that swine out there is killing and hurting their men, their husbands, sons, and lovers.” She patted Annys on the arm. “We all feel it now.”
“Strangely, kenning that I am nay the only one thinking of tearing the mon apart is oddly comforting. Of course, I meant to use a sword.”
“Weel, aye, of course ye did. Ye are a lady.”
Annys could barely believe it when she choked on a laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth but made the mistake of looking at Joan. Then they both started giggling.
Their brief moment of laughter ended abruptly when a badly wounded man was carried in by Bear. Annys waved him over even as she hastily worked to wash off the table. When Bear put the man down on the table and she took a look at the wounds, she sighed. He would have to fight hard and long to survive. She began to wash away the blood as Joan readied a needle and thread. It was going to be a very long day.
Chapter Eighteen
And so begins the third day, Harcourt thought as he made his way down from the walls. At least it was quiet for now. After a dawn attack that had come close to succeeding, even Sir Adam’s men needed to rest and regroup. He spotted Geordie and Big Mary collecting up arrows and shook his head. Who would have thought the tall, broad-shouldered woman who cared for all the fowl of the keep would be attracted to someone like Geordie, a man neither handsome nor as tall as s
he was.
He stood by the well set in the center of the bailey and gathered the strength to pull up a bucket of water. Harcourt groaned in relief as he poured the cool water over his head. Every muscle and bone in his body ached. And he smelled, he thought crossly as he wiped the water from his face. He hated to smell bad and Harcourt decided it was yet another crime he could add to the list of ones Sir Adam deserved to die for.
“No one else will say it, so I will,” said Ned as he stepped up beside Harcourt and got some water for himself.
“Must ye? If no one else will say it, mayhap that is because no one really wants to hear it.”
Ned poured the water over his head and then shook himself like a dog would, ignoring Harcourt’s complaints about being splashed. “Ye are wet now. A wee bit more willnae kill ye.”
“Aye, but with clean water. I dinnae think what ye just shook all over me is too clean.”
“This is nay looking good for us, Harcourt.” He looked at Harcourt after wiping the water from his eyes, and did not even try to hide his concern. “That bastard is wasting his men but it still looks bad for us. He throws his men at the walls and loses some but has more. We push them back and lose some of our own, but dinnae have more. Soon, nay matter how hard and weel we may fight, he will still have more and we will nay longer have enough.”
“I ken it,” Harcourt reluctantly admitted. “Worse, the men fighting on those walls can see it, but we have no choice.”
“Mayhap nay right now, but soon.”
“Ye mean for us to all flee this place.”
“Aye. Ye said ye didnae believe in fighting to the last mon, woman, and bairn. I believed you.”
“I meant it. But, we still have some time left us.” He held up his hand when Ned opened his mouth to speak. “Nay much, but just a wee while more. I can see the time coming when we will have to leave if we mean to live, but a lot can happen between now and when it is time for us to get out, short though the time for a miracle might be.”
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