by Amanda Scott
Squaring his shoulders and raising his chin in a way that reminded Giff forcibly of Sidony, Jake said, “I were the one at fault, though. Me da’ did nae more than what ye’d threatened to do, did I vex ye again.”
“That’s true enough,” Giff said, impressed. “Hold the banner now, whilst I tie these ribbons to the forestay so it can wave freely.”
He quickly tied the banner’s strings to loops the forestay provided for the purpose. By the time he had finished, the oncoming boats were near enough for him to recognize that each flew the banner of Ranald of the Isles.
“Sakes, what is this all about then?” he muttered to himself.
From below, he heard Sidony call, “’Tis Ranald.”
“Aye, lass, but I’d expected to meet with him on Eigg. I wonder what’s amiss.”
“Must I go back to the aft cabin?” she asked.
“Nay, we’ve nowt to fear from Ranald,” Giff said. “Come to that, we shall have reinforcements now if Fife finds us before I get you safely home.”
Turning aft, he raised his hand so Maxwell would have warning as he shouted, “Weigh enough, lads! Weigh enough!”
Sidony loved to watch the oars come up together, their blades all parallel to the water. They made a fine sight with the MacLennan banner flying bravely at their bow.
“Hold water!” Giff roared as Ranald’s lead galley swept up to them in fine style. Moments later, the two boats were side by side, just an oar’s-length apart.
Two men in Ranald’s boat laid a plank from gunwale to gunwale, and like a cat, Ranald of the Isles, despite having four-and-sixty years behind him, leaped onto it and crossed to the Serpent as nimbly as a man forty years younger might have.
Oarsmen made room for him to step onto a rowers’ bench, and thence to the deck, where Giff met him and shook his hand. “What brings you to meet me, my lord? I’d expected to find you on the Isle of Eigg later today.”
“Aye, well, it won’t serve, lad,” Ranald said. “Donald kens now that ye’re coming, so I came ahead to warn ye, but ’tis all I can do. He’s commanded me no’ to aid ye without he gives me leave after he speaks wi’ ye.”
“Speaks with me! What manner of trick is this? You swore an oath!”
Ranald held up a hand, silencing him. “I ken fine that ye’re wroth wi’ me, but as a man of honor, I could not lie to my own liege lord in such a situation.”
“What situation?” Giff demanded. “Sakes, my lord, we had an agreement.”
“Aye, sure, and we still have one, but ye’d best let me explain. Ha’ ye somewhere more private where we can speak plainly?”
Giff nodded, took him into the forward cabin, and shut the door.
“Now, with respect, sir,” Giff said tersely, “what the devil is this about?”
“Ye ken fine that Donald’s Lord High Admiral of the Isles, Lachlan Lubanach, has created the finest arrangement for gathering news that ever the Isles have seen.”
“Aye, so?”
“So, Donald learned thus of a ship flying the Norse banner that had entered his waters, pursued by others bearing the royal banner. He commanded me to join him in confronting you and demanding to know your business here. I told him that ye were friendly and coming to Eigg to see me. But he asked me straight out what business ye had with me. Sakes, but ye’d never expect me to lie in the man’s face.”
“What exactly did you tell him?” Giff demanded.
“Only that ye were bringing something o’ great value for me to protect. He asked who you were, and I told him. I did not mention the Order, for he kens nowt about that, and I told him no more than he asked. Michael said ye’d be the one to tell me what I’d be protecting, but Donald insists that he will see it, whatever it is.”
“Well, he won’t see it unless you mean to stop us here and betray the Order as well as betraying your sworn word to its members,” Giff said.
“I’ve sworn fealty to Donald, as well, and he is my own brother. Sakes, but I saw to it that he succeeded our father as Lord of the Isles. No man of honor or sense could expect me to defy a direct command from him now. Nor would that have achieved aught but to harden his resolve to intercept ye.”
Giff sighed. He could understand Ranald’s dilemma, but Donald’s knowing even as much about their actions as he did now put them and the Stone at risk.
Ranald said, “I’ll tell him nowt but what he asks, though such equivocation stirs guilt in me. Nor will I hinder ye, for he has not commanded either your arrest or that I prevent your departure from the Isles.”
Frowning, Giff said, “Then I can return north but cannot go south. Is that it?”
“Aye, if ye mean to escape Donald, ye’d best turn round straightaway and go back to Orkney. Doubtless Henry can aid ye there. Sithee, I cannot—”
“The reason a ship with a royal banner is pursuing us is that Fife is aboard it,” Giff said. “The men bringing him are seeking us because they think we have at least a portion of the Templar treasure aboard this ship.”
“Sakes, is that what ye have?”
“I won’t tell you a thing about our cargo,” Giff snapped. “Nor should you expect it. I understand about Donald, but he cannot know what we carry for the very reason that he is likely to tell his uncle Fife. Through Lachlan Lubanach’s friends, you must know that Fife wants to seize the Scottish throne when the King dies. You know, too, that Fife is ruthless and that many already believe it is only Carrick’s weakness and obvious disinterest in opposing him that prevents Carrick’s death now.”
“Aye, that is so,” Ranald said. “But Parliament still retains legal right to decide the matter, and Donald thinks Fife will persuade its leaders to accept his claim instead of putting Carrick on the throne. Many already think Fife a better man for the job.”
“But do you think it the act of an honorable man to aid him in that endeavor?”
“I’ve no intention of aiding him, but Donald has guessed that Fife commands those ships, and he has forbidden me to engage him in battle for any reason.”
“So I’m doubly betrayed,” Giff said. “You swore an oath to the Order to put your duties to it above all others,” he repeated. “Your father, the first Lord of the Isles, swore the same oath. Do those oaths mean nowt to you?”
Ranald looked away but said nothing, and Giff shook his head. “I do see your dilemma,” he said. “I hope you see mine. Pray, do not tarry in returning to your ship.”
It occurred to him then that it could not hurt to plant the thought in Ranald’s mind that had been muttering in his own for some time. “You ought to know,” he said, “that I am not persuaded that Fife does command the boats that chase us.”
“Faugh, wherever Fife is, he is in command. How could it be otherwise?”
“Because none of those other ships are his,” Giff said.
“We heard he’d had a fine one built.”
“Aye, but this is it,” Giff said.
“This boat we’re on now? This be the Serpent Royal?”
“Aye, it is,” Giff said. “I . . . well, I borrowed it because he sent away the ship I’d hired at Leith. Also, I’d hoped to make it impossible for him to give chase straightaway, but someone speedily provided him with ships to come after me—a total of eight altogether. It does seem unlikely to me that a man able to supply such ships would answer to Lord Fife. Suggest that to Donald whilst you’re about it.”
Hearing shouts, they went back outside, and Giff saw that whatever Ranald decided to say to Donald, he could say very soon.
In the distance, from the south, a large flotilla headed straight for them.
Chapter 21
Giff and Ranald shouted orders to their men, and both ships turned quickly, with oarsmen on one side backing water while those on the other pulled hard. Within minutes, her sail full, the Serpent was heading back toward the Inner Sound.
As they emerged from Kyle Akin, the narrow passage between Loch Alsh and the Sound, Giff knew that men on watch at Duncraig could see them but
would not realize they were under pursuit. And when they did, there would be naught they could do, because without a galley in the noust, they were stuck where they were.
Others might also see, but if Donald had sent for Mac-Lennan of Duncraig, he had sent for other nobles, too. In any event, one could not expect any Islesman not threatened by the Lord of the Isles to attack him or to defend anyone under his attack.
“Will Donald pursue us?” Sidony asked, startling him out of his thoughts.
“I don’t know,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I think not. Ranald will do what he can, and he wields strong influence with Donald. I think he’ll persuade him that I’m no threat, and they’ll let us go in peace. I’m more worried about Fife.”
She was looking past him, and her expression suddenly changed. Turning, he saw two ships emerging from the shadow of an islet at the narrowest part of the Sound.
“Those are Fife’s longships, aren’t they?” she said.
“Aye,” he said, and for the first time since the earliest days of his training, he felt fear that chilled him to the bone, fear for her. The longships were too close to allow him to return her to the safety of Duncraig.
“If Duncraig is impregnable . . . ,” she said.
“There’s no time now, sweetheart.” He fought to sound calm.
“Not even to get us all inside? I ken fine that you want to protect the . . . the cargo, but surely all these people are more—”
“When I said ‘no time,’ lass, I meant the people. Remember, those ships are lighter than ours and much faster. Moreover, the wind is coming at us broadside, which also favors them. They would be upon us before we could get this ship into the noust, let alone get all of us into the castle.”
“Then, what—”
“I need to think, not talk,” he interjected. “I want you to go into our cabin with Jake and bolt the door. When the fighting starts, I want you both to get into the hold where I found you, pull the trap shut, and stay there until I come for you.”
“No, I’ll not—”
“You will, or when this is all over, I swear I’ll teach you to obey me in a way you won’t like,” he said fiercely, terrified by the images flitting through his mind.
She did not say another word, just turned on her heel and walked away.
Although he wanted nothing more than to call her back to him to hug her, hold her tight, and assure her that everything would be all right, he watched her instead until she remembered Jake and called the lad to her.
Satisfied that they would be safe as long as he won the forthcoming battle, and trying to persuade himself that neither Fife nor de Gredin—if by some horrible mischance they won—would have cause to harm either Sidony or Jake, he turned to issue orders to Maxwell and the men.
“What’s this, then?” Jake demanded as Sidony bolted the cabin door. “I dinna want to stay in here. I want to see what happens. Sakes, I’m old enough to fight, too, if they need me,” he added stoutly.
The top of his head barely reached her shoulder.
She said calmly, “I’m sorry, Jake, for I’m sure you’re right. But I know that if they do start fighting, I’m going to be scared out of my senses. I’ll need you then, and Sir Giff very kindly said I could keep you with me because you did such a good job looking after me before, during the storm. Still, if you want to go and tell him that you’d rather fight, you must do as you think best.”
Jake stared at the bolted door as if he could see through it, grimaced, and turned back to say casually, “I expect I’ll stay then, so ye needna fear nowt.”
Deciding it would be best to get the worst out at once, she said, “He did say that when the fighting starts we should hide in that wee hold where you found me.”
Jake’s eyes grew big. “Nay, then, there’s boggarts down there!”
Feeling much the same way, if not utterly revolted by the thought of returning to that dark, uncomfortable hole, Sidony said, “We need do nothing until they do start fighting. Mayhap we will feel differently about it then.”
“Nay, then, we will not,” Jake said firmly, glowering at the trapdoor. Then, abruptly, his gaze shifted to the open porthole over the table. “D’ye think I can see them ships from yon hole?”
“Not that one,” she said. “I’ve not tried to look out, but they were off the larboard side before, and that hole is on the steerboard side. Also, your da’ may see you there if he looks back.”
“Nay, for he’ll be a-watching o’ them ships,” Jake said. “But one o’ the oarsmen might see me, I expect. Still . . .” He looked at the other port, over the washstand. The stand itself was only a shelf big enough to hold the basin, with a pocket to hold the ewer. When not in use, the basin hung on a hook beside it.
Sidony said nothing. In truth, she wanted to know what was happening as much as he did. The logical thing was to open the cabin door, but she wanted neither to bring Giff’s wrath down on the two of them nor to distract him from the forthcoming battle just as, or when, it transpired.
“Could ye look out that one?” Jake asked. “Ye’re taller.”
She opened the shutter and latched it to the wall. “I can see straight out,” she said. “But, with the shelf in the way as it is, I’m not tall enough to see much ahead.”
“Can ye boost me up there?” he asked. “I could look out if ye’d hold me.”
She was not sure the shelf would hold him, but she could hear a commotion now, with Giff’s voice roaring “Weigh enough,” as others shouted in a din of unrecognizable voices. In the end, curiosity outweighed caution.
“I’ll try,” she said. “Take care, though. It may be too weak to hold you.”
She made a cup of her hands and let him step into it, but as she straightened to lift him, the shouting grew louder and, with a cacophony of scraping, crashing noises, the entire ship jolted to a halt and shuddered, flinging them both sideways.
Jake had his hand on the rim of the porthole, so when Sidony let go of him to keep herself from crashing into Fife’s kists near the door, the boy was able to push himself away from the shelf and land with astonishing lightness on his feet.
As Sidony straightened, she saw the bow of a longship gliding alongside and quickly moved to shut the shutter.
“Did anyone see you?” she asked.
“Nay, nor I didn’t see any o’ them,” he said indignantly. “What were ye thinking to let go o’ me all in a blink like that?”
“I couldn’t help it, but they mustn’t see either of us, Jake. Only think if someone decided to threaten us in order to make Sir Giff give them this ship.”
“Ye’re no’ going to make me get into yon hole,” he said.
“We’ll open it,” she said. “Then if we do change our minds—if someone tries to kick down the door . . .” She let him fill the rest in for himself.
Nodding, he moved to open the trap as pandemonium erupted outside.
Until the last moment, Giff had harbored a faint hope that Fife and de Gredin would hesitate to attack in MacDonald’s waters, but the two longships had flanked the Serpent, coming right alongside her, barely giving the men time to ship their oars. Then, using grappling hooks, the enemy began lashing the boats together.
Giff’s best warriors were at the bow, swords already drawn. As he drew his, he saw that others had bows and arrows, stones, whatever they had thought to bring aboard as weaponry. But, in truth, he knew they would depend more on their swords and hand-to-hand combat. They were not his own lads, but they were Sinclairs and thus utterly proficient, and he knew they had trained just as he and his men had.
His sword at the ready, he moved swiftly onto a bench, fighting his way steerboard toward what had been the lead longship, looking for Fife or de Gredin. He had cut down three of the enemy without seeing either of their leaders.
Rob, who was one of the finest swordsmen he knew, had said the earl was a fine one, and Michael had warned him not to think de Gredin would be any less. Seeing neither man, he wondered if
they could be on the second longship.
Men kept coming, keeping him busy, but his own lads were holding their own. Seeing Hob Grant engaged against two from the second longship and Wat Maxwell wielding his sword like a fiend against two others, he grinned, thinking back to all the earlier concerns about Maxwell’s trustworthiness.
Even heavily outnumbered as they were, Giff’s men had one big advantage in that their gunwales were three feet higher than the others. As long as they could keep most of the enemy on their own ships and diminish their numbers, they had a chance.
Sitting on the lower bed, covering her ears against the din, and staring at the floor in an attempt to calm her nerves, Sidony sensed movement to her right and looked up to see Jake on the table, his wiry body halfway through the porthole.
Leaping to her feet, she grabbed him and pulled hard.
He slithered back inside, his eyes alight with excitement. “They be fighting summat fierce, me lady, and I can near touch yon stempost. Ye should see ’em!”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Nay, they be looking to nowt save other men’s swords or fists. Arrows and stones be a-flying, and they’ve lashed the boats together, this side at least. I’m guessing the other is the same, and they jump about from boat to boat.”
“Did you see Sir Giff?”
“Aye, he dropped about ten o’ their lads wi’ just a few strokes o’ his sword.”
“Ten?”
“Mayhap no’ so many as that, aye, but a fair lot o’ them. I’m going to look again . . . unless ye want a peek yourself,” he added with visibly reluctant generosity.
She did want to look, but she shook her head. If the enemy saw Jake, they were unlikely to act, but if any of them saw her . . . She shut her eyes at the thought.
Returning to the porthole, Jake slid his top half out again, but a moment later, he popped back in. “Me lady, his lordship’s yonder.”
