by Jayne Castel
Gavina reached out and placed a hand over Elizabeth’s. “Don’t say such things, Liz. Robert still lives.”
“But ye don’t know that. Edward will be looking to punish our clan now.”
The women’s gazes fused for a long moment, and Gavina’s belly knotted. She wanted to assure her sister-by-marriage that wasn’t the case, to promise her that Robert would be returned to them whole and healthy, but she wasn’t one for empty words, so she held her tongue instead.
“Are we ready for another siege?” Elizabeth asked, deliberately changing the topic away from her husband. “The English breached our gates easily last time.”
“The Wallace and his men have reinforced them with iron bars,” Gavina replied. “We also have been amassing quantities of slate and lead should they try to scale the walls.” She paused then, remembering the attack years earlier. Robert had been laird of Dunnottar then, but even though he was a skilled strategist and strong leader, the castle hadn’t been able to withstand the might of the English. “Remember … we were all taken by surprise last time. It won’t happen again.”
Elizabeth nodded, a little of the tension on her face easing. “Ye are doing a fine job of ruling, Gavina,” she said after a pause, managing a faint smile. “Unlike David, ye don’t let paranoia and pride cloud yer judgement.”
Gavina smiled back, warmed by Elizabeth’s words. Her gaze then flicked across to where William Wallace was deep in conversation with his right-hand. The freedom fighter, and the aura of calm authority he emitted, definitely made her new position easier.
Of course, the Wallace was a wanted man—Edward Longshanks could never learn that the outlaw sheltered within her walls. Even so, Gavina felt secure in the knowledge she had Wallace’s loyalty.
However, the English weren’t the only threat to the stronghold these days. Her brother, Shaw Irvine, had threatened her husband with war if he didn’t cede land to him. Now that David was dead, it was up to her to smooth things with her errant brother. She didn’t want to fight her own kin, and would try her best to take the route of diplomacy. Nonetheless, the threat Shaw posed made Wallace’s presence here even more vital.
They’d strengthened Dunnottar’s defenses considerably over the past weeks. The Guard had now doubled in size, and the clang and hiss of the forge was an ever-present sound in the keep these days as the smiths worked night and day to make enough weapons for them.
Gavina’s jaw firmed, resolve igniting in the pit of her belly.
Aye, Wallace had defeated the English numerous times in the past, and he’d do so again.
“My Lady … a message has arrived for ye!”
Gavina glanced up, from where she was seated by the hearth, her gaze alighting upon the guard in the doorway to the laird’s solar. She didn’t usually spend much time in here, preferring the softer, more feminine sanctuary of the women’s solar, but the Wallace had wished to discuss Dunnottar’s defenses with her after the noon meal.
She sat surrounded by men—big, leather and mail-clad warriors dominated the large chamber.
The Wallace, Draco Vulcan, and Maximus Cato stood near the window, while Cassian Gaius leaned against the mantelpiece. Donnan De Keith, steward of Dunnottar, sat on a high-backed chair opposite Gavina. The steward was older than the other men present, silver lacing his thick brown hair, yet he still exuded a masculine forcefulness.
Despite that she had stepped into the role of laird with relative ease, these conversations sometimes made her feel out of her depth.
Diplomacy and negotiation were her strengths. She didn’t know how to talk about warfare and strategy. Violence made her queasy. Nonetheless, these men sought to include her in all the decisions regarding the defense of this fortress.
“Thank ye,” she said, reaching for the scroll the guard now brought to her.
Looking down at the wax seal upon the missive, Gavina’s breathing quickened. She recognized the Irvine crest immediately: a banded sheaf of holly leaves.
“It’s from my brother,” she murmured as the guard went on his way. She glanced across at the Wallace then. His brow was furrowed, his dark gaze upon the scroll she held. “I wrote to him recently, requesting that the two of us meet to settle things,” she continued. “This will be his answer.”
The Wallace’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Ye don’t want to be wasting time on the likes of him, My Lady … not with Longshanks threatening the north.”
Stubbornness rose within Gavina. “He’s my brother, William. I will do what I can to mend things between us … especially since we need to be friends with our neighbors at a time like this.”
Beside the Wallace, Draco Vulcan snorted. Maximus cast his friend a quelling look, but the Moor ignored it.
Gavina cut Draco a glare. She wished he hadn’t been invited to this meeting. However, Wallace rarely met with her without Vulcan at his side.
“Well, let’s see what your brother has to say,” Cassian said, breaking the tense silence that descended in the solar.
Shifting her attention back to the missive, Gavina broke the seal and unfurled the parchment. At the top, in her brother’s spiky handwriting, was the Irvine motto. Sub Sole Sub Umbra Virens: flourishing both in sunshine and in shade. Underneath it was a short message.
Gavina cleared her throat. “My dearest sister,” she began, her voice turning brittle at the empty words. It was a mere formality, for Shaw had never shown any affection for her, not even when they were bairns. “I thank ye for yer letter and am heartened that ye wish to meet with me to discuss our situation. Congratulations also on yer new position as laird. In the interests of both parties, it is best we meet in a neutral spot. As such, I will await ye on the eve of the twenty-first of June in the Strath of Muirskie, upon Gordon lands. Yer ever-loving brother, Shaw Irvine.”
Silence followed Gavina’s reading of the letter. She lowered the parchment to see that opposite her Donnan De Keith was now frowning. “What did ye promise him, My Lady?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with concern.
Gavina frowned. Did he really think she’d promise her brother anything, especially after he threatened to lay siege to Dunnottar? He’d even bragged about his new siege weapon, ‘The Battle Hammer’, which he threatened to bash down the castle gates with if land wasn’t ceded to him.
“Nothing,” she said, her tone sharpening. “I merely requested that he and I meet to see if peace could be forged between the Irvines and the De Keiths once more.”
“You do realize that the twenty-first of June is tomorrow?” Draco Vulcan drawled, speaking up for the first time since entering the solar.
Gavina ignored him, her gaze still upon the steward. “I will not make an enemy of my brother unless I’m left with no choice,” she continued. “Shaw is a potential ally we shouldn’t ignore … especially with Edward of England focused upon us.”
“It’s not safe for you to be traveling beyond these walls at present, My Lady,” Cassian spoke up, a pained expression flitting across his ruggedly handsome features. “I suggest you send me to speak on your behalf.”
Gavina shook her head, determination rising within her once more. “Shaw expects me. He won’t treat with anyone else.”
“Captain Gaius is right, My Lady,” Wallace rumbled. “This is not the time for a lady to be making such journeys.”
“I will be perfectly safe,” Gavina replied, raising her chin as she met the Wallace’s eye. “All I need is an escort.”
III
TRAITORS AND PROTECTORS
“YOU HAVE COME from Dunnottar?”
Edward of England observed the man before him. With wild auburn hair and a thick beard, the newcomer’s face was in a state—swollen and bruised. His nose was badly misshapen and both eyes blackened. One look at the Scot, with his heavily-muscled physique, and Edward could see he was a blacksmith. One didn’t acquire muscles like that from working the fields or even wielding a broadsword.
The newcomer tensed, his gaze flicking to the big man with r
ed hair who sat by the hearth. Of course, only the high-born Scots understood or spoke French.
“Mar sin tha thu air tighinn bho Dunnottar?” John Comyn translated.
The newcomer mumbled a response through cracked lips.
“He says ‘aye’ … and he brings news,” Comyn replied, his gaze returning to the English king.
Edward’s gaze narrowed. “So I hear,” he replied coolly. “You wouldn’t have been allowed up here otherwise.”
The former Guardian of the Realm translated that too, and the blacksmith frowned.
Edward stood near the window in his solar. He’d been taking a cup of wine with Comyn when one of his men had announced he had a visitor. Edward would have turned the lout away if he hadn’t mentioned Dunnottar.
The De Keiths had been on his mind of late, especially after their laird had tried to cut his throat just a few short weeks ago.
Gavina and Elizabeth De Keith had both slipped his net, but in the end, he’d decided he cared little about that. David De Keith had most likely acted alone. The man had been a scheming weasel—Edward had realized that from the moment they met. But he’d never imagined the laird would pull a dirk on him.
Fortunately for the king, De Keith had underestimated him. He might have been getting on in years, but he was still lethal in a fight.
De Keith’s brother remained an English prisoner, as Edward hadn’t yet decided whether or not Robert De Keith should be executed for his brother’s act.
Edward had considered marching up to the fortress immediately and laying siege to it, just to teach the clan a lesson. But once his initial outrage faded, Edward let pragmatism rule his decisions. He needed to strengthen his defenses at Stirling before he marched off to Dunnottar. Keeping hold of the territories he and his son had already taken was proving more difficult than he’d hoped.
The Scots were hardier than the Welsh, it seemed. The additional troops he’d ordered from Northumbria had just arrived the day before. He was almost ready to make the trip north.
“So, what news do you have?” Edward asked, impatience creeping into his voice. Even from a few yards distant, he could smell the man: the rank odor of stale sweat and unwashed clothing. It was all he could do not to screw his face up.
The smith spoke again, his words mumbling and incoherent.
Across the room, John Comyn stiffened.
“What is it?” Edward barked. He hated not being able to understand Gaelic, and sometimes wondered if Comyn altered some of his translations to suit his own ends. The Scottish baron had bent the knee to him, yet Edward was ever watchful of Comyn.
He was a Scot after all, and none of them could be trusted.
“William Wallace is hiding at Dunnottar,” Comyn replied, his tone wary.
Edward’s gaze swiveled back to the smith. “What’s your name?”
“Dè an t-ainm a th ’ort?” Comyn translated.
“Blair Galbraith,” the man mumbled back, before saying something else.
“He was smith at Dunnottar,” the baron continued. “Apparently, the Wallace arrived nearly two moons ago and has been hiding out in the fortress ever since.”
William Wallace. Edward went still, coldness seeping through him.
Long moments passed. When the English king eventually spoke, his voice was quiet, yet flinty. “Apparently? You don’t believe him?”
John ‘The Red’ Comyn pursed his lips, but didn’t answer that.
Edward ignored him for the moment, instead focusing his attention on Galbraith. Rage ignited in the pit of his belly. De Keith was hiding Wallace. The bastard knew I was hunting him … he must have been laughing at me.
Nonetheless, Edward kept his expression neutral. He knew better than to reveal his reactions in front of the likes of Comyn. A month ago, he’d drunk too much one evening and been too open with the man; Edward had later regretted his candor, and had been tight-lipped around the baron ever since.
Anger pulsed through him, and he let it burn, catching alight in his veins. A rush of vindictive pleasure followed. William Wallace had caused him no end of trouble over the years—and now he had discovered his location. The man’s days were numbered.
Wallace had murdered William de Heselrig, Edward’s High Sheriff of Lanark. Then, after winning the Battle of Stirling Bridge, Wallace had desecrated the body of Edward’s friend Hugh de Cressingham, the treasurer he’d put in Stirling. Wallace had fashioned Hugh’s skin into a scabbard, hilt, and belt.
But worse than all that—and of far greater worry to Edward—was the fact that William Wallace was a symbol of Scottish hope.
Edward would enjoy seeing the Wallace suffer for his crimes. The man’s death would crush the rebellion.
With Wallace out of the way, Scotland will be mine.
“Thank you for bringing this news to me,” he said finally, meeting Galbraith’s eye. “I will make sure you are amply rewarded.”
Comyn translated for him, and then the smith answered.
“He asks for no silver from you,” Comyn replied, a brittle edge to his voice now. The man’s face had flushed. His blue eyes glittered as he watched Blair Galbraith. “He says that revenge is payment enough.”
Edward favored the blacksmith with a cool smile. “Well then, it appears we have something in common after all.”
“I should head your escort, My Lady.”
“No, Captain … I’d prefer ye remain here at Dunnottar.”
Gavina rose to her feet, her fingers closing around her brother’s missive. He’d arranged their meeting sooner than she’d anticipated. She had to ready herself, for the Strath of Muirskie was nearly a day’s ride from Dunnottar. They would need to leave with tomorrow’s dawn.
Across from her, Cassian was scowling.
“Please ready a party of twenty warriors to accompany me,” she continued. “And while I’m away, ye and Donnan are in charge of the fortress.”
“Aye, but Captain Gaius has a point, My Lady,” the steward spoke up. “Ye should have a personal guard as well for this journey … men who can oversee the discussions.”
Irritation surged within Gavina. Since she’d taken over as laird, the likes of Donnan and Cassian had supported her. But when it came to making more important decisions, they grew nervous of putting their fate in a woman’s hands.
Gavina held the steward’s eye. She’d always liked Donnan, yet the patronizing edge to his voice—his concern that as a woman she was incapable of taking the lead in talks with her brother—rankled.
It was time she regained control of this exchange. Squaring her shoulders, Gavina drew in a deep breath, her gaze shifting across to the window where the Wallace and Vulcan still reclined.
“William … can ye spare some of yer men to join my escort?” she asked. If it made Donnan feel better, she would increase the numbers of her party.
Wallace nodded. “Of course, My Lady.”
“If you wish me to remain at Dunnottar … I would ask you to take two men I name as your protectors,” Cassian interjected here. He wore a stubborn expression now, a look Gavina had already seen in the past.
She inclined her head, her irritation fading a little. It warmed her to know that Cassian was so protective of her. She’d grown up feeling like an encumbrance in a keep full of rowdy, dominant men. And even her own husband hadn’t cared for her well-being. Yet Captain Gaius, a man doomed to continue living for eternity, was doggedly loyal to Dunnottar and those who ruled it. He’d proved his loyalty numerous times over on that perilous flight back to Dunnottar from Stirling.
“Aye, Captain,” she replied finally. “As ye wish … whom did ye have in mind?”
Cassian held her gaze a moment, before he smiled. The captain then jerked his chin toward Maximus Cato and Draco Vulcan. “Those two.”
“Clod-head! Why didn’t you ask me first?”
Draco rounded on Cassian the moment they were outdoors. A warm breeze feathered across the lower ward, bringing with it the briny tang of the sea. However
, Draco paid the fair afternoon no mind. He was too busy being angry at his friend.
Irritatingly, Cassian merely smiled back at him. “There was no need … I knew you’d agree.”
“But I’m needed here.”
Maximus, who had just joined them, snorted. “As are we all … however, Cass is right. Lady Gavina needs protecting.”
Draco snarled at Maximus. “Well, why don’t you go on your own then?”
“Two sets of eyes are better than one,” Maximus replied, maddeningly calm. His dark eyes glinted with thinly veiled amusement, which made Draco want to punch him. “Plus, I know how much you enjoy Lady Gavina’s company.”
Draco growled a curse. “I’ve got better things to do than play protector to that woman.”
“No, you don’t,” Cassian replied, a bullish expression settling upon his face. “You might not be part of the Dunnottar Guard, Draco, but the Wallace has sworn to protect this fortress and those who rule it. He’s agreed for you and Max to escort Lady Gavina … and that’s the end of it.”
“Don’t worry,” Maximus cut in, still grinning. “It’ll only be an overnight trip. We won’t be away long.”
“All the same, my time would be better spent here,” Draco insisted. He wasn’t letting this matter drop so easily. “The English could attack at any time.”
“We have scouts out watching the approach from the south,” Cassian replied. “Worry not. We’ll have advance warning of their arrival.”
Draco muttered a curse. “We should be focusing on that riddle … rather than trying to pacify Irvine.”
Maximus cocked an eyebrow. “There’s nothing you or I can do here for the moment. Perhaps we’ll meet your ‘White Hawk’ on our travels.”
Draco glared at him, although he realized there was little point in arguing with these two. He knew he sounded petulant, but the last thing he wanted was to become Lady Gavina’s personal protector—even for a couple of days. The woman’s haughty manner brought out the worst in him.
