Merida stood at the top of an incline just outside the front gates of the keep. Her right foot slightly lifted, she leaned on Elspeth for balance.
Seeing the large number of horsemen lined up and preparing to leave, she wondered how it was that her entire clan was not slaughtered when battling with them.
There were one hundred and fifty men present and that was less than half of the entire army that Malcolm Ross commanded.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Elspeth said. “At the same time, it’s frightening.”
Merida nodded. “It is.”
Ian and Tristan stood just in front of them with Malcolm, each of them impressive in stance and stature. Tristan was taller than Malcolm by a hair and Ian just a bit shorter than the brothers.
Tristan turned to her, his gaze seeming to bore into her soul. Then he neared, pressed a kiss to her lips and walked to where Duin was being held steady by Tristan’s cousin, Ruari.
The beast’s head lifted and lowered and he pawed the ground, anxious to be loosed and allowed to run. Merida looked at the horse and rider and her heart tugged. She’d asked Tristan to take Duin because the beast had a quality that warriors treasured in a warhorse. He would give his life protecting the man that rode into battle with him. Duin had fought off many an attack being ridden by one of her uncles, who’d died in battle years earlier.
And although other men attempted to take the horse, he would have no one but Merida near. And now the proud beast had chosen Tristan. Merida wondered if once fighting with him, Duin would ever be hers again.
As the men rode off, Merida turned away, not wishing to see so many backs departing.
“There is much to do this morning,” Elspeth said, tugging her sleeve. “I plan to help out in the garden this morning. Would ye like to come?”
Merida nodded. “I may be more of an inconvenience, but I will help where I can. It will be a good distraction.”
She was loaded onto a small cart and a guardsman pulled it to where Elspeth instructed. A short fence around the far side of the main house closed in the garden. In the green space, Moira kept a well-stocked garden patch.
Upon Merida being assisted down, she hobbled to a small stool. Elspeth slid a look to her.
“I know this is a difficult adjustment for ye. Do not hesitate to come to me. I will ensure ye will never be lonely.”
“Thank ye.” Merida wanted to go to the bedchamber and cry, not garden and make small talk. How could Elspeth not understand this?
The vegetable garden was more than ready to be harvested. Carrots were ready to be dug up and huge cabbages needed to be plucked from the ground. Using their aprons to carry items, two maids walked between the neat rows, inspecting what needed to be harvested.
Elspeth greeted her friend, Ceilidh, who stood by the gate with a forlorn expression. Ceilidh attempted a smile at Merida, but then sniffed and wiped an errant tear.
“He did not speak to me before leaving,” she said by way of explanation. Elspeth slid a look to Merida. “We thought that she and Ian would be courting by now, but he seems to not wish to. He avoids Ceilidh at all costs.”
Ceilidh wiped her nose on the edge of her apron. “I am not going to mope for him. If he is going to ignore me, I will do the same from now on.”
Despite feeling a bit sad herself, Merida wanted to chuckle. It would be easy to ignore a man who was gone from there. “Why do ye think he ignores ye?”
The woman gave a dainty shrug. “The loss of his arm, I suppose. However, he seemed keen to court while he was recovering. Now that he is well and able, Ian has changed.”
Elspeth patted Ceilidh’s shoulder. “It could be he is still not feeling worthy of ye. Whether a warrior or not, he may feel less than a man by missing a part of his body.”
“I agree,” Merida added. “I have seen men who were bawdy become subdued after losing an arm or a leg in battle.”
She stopped speaking at noticing the servants stopped and stared at her as if just then realizing she was there.
One of the servants wiped at her brow. “Our clan lost many men. I know yers lost more.” The young woman neared. “My brother was killed by a McLeod.”
Merida swallowed past the sudden constriction in her throat. “I am sorry.”
“Tis nay yer fault.” The girl gave her a sad smile. “Tis the way of men.”
“And we should stop talking about them,” Elspeth said, opening the gate to the short fence meant to keep the goats out. Merida and Ceilidh, carrying the stool, followed. After grabbing baskets, they began to help with the harvest.
“What do ye suppose Moira will have us cook today?” one of the girls asked the other. They turned to Elspeth. “Have ye instructed her as of yet?”
Elspeth shook her head and chuckled. “I find it best to allow Moira liberty when it comes to the meals. Although my mother taught me to cook, tis not my finest work.”
The camaraderie of the women, combined with the servant girl’s earlier comment, settled Merida. Although her mind kept returning to Tristan, she did her best to concentrate on the moment.
No matter where or the circumstances, to her, it seemed women were stronger when it came to keeping the home in order. It was women who ensured that the bairns were taken care of, clothes washed and mended, and meals prepared and on the table every day.
Although men liked to think of themselves as protectors of the land, women ensured the home was secure. At the realization, Merida smiled up at the sky. Women did have a purpose and were as brave as men. Why had she not thought it before?
They worked for hours until the sun began to set. Merida was glad for the work. It took her mind away from the fact that once she went to sleep, she’d be alone for the first night of many to come.
Earlier in the afternoon, Ceilidh had gone to her village to spend time with her parents who’d arrived to visit earlier that day to fetch her.
“Ye should come inside and change for last meal,” said Elsa, who’d been helping in the kitchen. Elsa had come out and watched them work.
Along with Elspeth, Merida went to a rain barrel and they took turns scooping water with a pot to rinse off the dirt from their hands, arms and faces.
“Once last meal is over, we should spend time in the upstairs sitting room. I need to catch up on mending and ye can perhaps do the same. It will help ye settle into a routine,” Elspeth said, seeming quite content at having her as a companion.
“Thank ye so much.” Merida wanted to cry in relief. “Ye have no idea how…”
“I know exactly how ye feel,” Elspeth interrupted. “Malcolm has gone away for different reasons and being here with strangers was one of the most frightful things since marrying. I was so thankful when Ceilidh agreed to remain as my companion.”
It was hard to picture the kind woman with Laird Ross. Malcolm Ross was intimidating and quite unapproachable. Although from all the accounts she’d heard since arriving, people felt he was softening somewhat, she could not see it. It was as if the man were made of stone. He rarely showed any emotion, his expression that of someone without feelings. The only time his gaze seemed to soften was when looking upon his wife. And even then, it was quickly gone.
Merida imagined that when they were alone, he was perhaps different, as her new friend seemed quite content and enamored by her husband.
“How is the younger brother? Is he as menacing as yer husband?” Merida asked and quickly attempted to change her words. “I mean, Laird Ross seems to be a rigid man.”
Elspeth chuckled. “My husband is not a friendly person, I agree.” Her face beamed as she looked toward the great room where the laird sat in a chair listening to the last of the clan’s people who’d come with grievances or asking for assistance in certain matters.
“However,” Elspeth continued, “I do see a different side of him when we are alone that no one else does. I expect tis the same between ye and Tristan. If not yet, once ye become better acquainted, it will be.”
Merida decided
to wait to discuss anything about her relationship until they were alone in the sitting room. “We have not spent much time together as of yet.”
“True,” Elspeth replied. “Now, about the youngest brother, Kieran. He is…” Elspeth broke off and sighed. “Not in the least likeable.”
Merida felt her eyes round. What if he returned while Tristan was gone? Could it be that Kieran Ross was like Ethan? Without care for who he hurt.
“I will have to prepare ye for when he returns. If I thought Malcolm to be heartless at one time, I will have to say that in the few interactions I have had with Kieran, I consider him to be frightening. He is filled with rage and fury unlike any I have ever seen.”
Merida shivered. “I hope he stays away then.”
It was endearing when Elspeth giggled. “Tis a good wish.”
Chapter Nineteen
It was definitely colder in the north and Tristan became more annoyed at the intruders as they arrived at the guard posts.
Once inside a walled area in front of the main building, Clan Ross warriors busied themselves setting up tents and gathering wood for bonfires, which would keep them busy until time to sleep.
His brother stood atop a watchtower, his long hair blowing in the wind. With the light golden hair, he looked more Norse than Highlander. His hazel gaze traveled across the men that came with Tristan and he raised an arm in greeting.
Tristan returned with his own acknowledgement, lifting his right hand up to his brother.
“Tis good to see ye,” a warrior said as he neared. “They are only a day’s ride away now.”
Although he understood it could come to war, Tristan hoped that upon seeing the number of warriors prepared to defend their land, the idiots would turn around and leave. However, after traveling so far, the enemy probably had some sort of reinforcements or at least a plan of attack.
He walked into a large, fortified building that had been built almost fifty years earlier by his grandfather upon Clan Ross settling the northern border. It was a square structure with guard posts on every corner of the roof. The towers had arrow slits. On the roof were two large pits filled with wood that blazed constantly. Arrows could be lit and shot down not only piercing an individual, but also burning the flesh.
On the main floor was a large room where meals were served and there were several smaller rooms used for sleeping when men were off duty. On the second floor, there were open areas for sleeping during inclement weather. It was safer for the warriors to sleep outside and not all be caught inside the building, so the larger room was rarely used.
There was an enclosed area to the side, four tall walls keeping it safe from arrows and such where a blacksmith shop was.
Food was prepared outside, the area protected by a wood and thatch roof. Meals were prepared over an open fire by a man and two helpers.
Tristan walked into the main room just as Kieran came down the stairwell and entered. His brother frowned. “They arrive in a day.”
“I’ve been told,” Tristan replied. “Ian and fifty have gone to the northwest border. More of them are headed there.”
Kieran shook his head. “Is Uncle Gregor with ye?”
It wasn’t the time to tell his brother what had happened back at their home. Not now before what was to come. Instead, he decided to wait and discuss their uncle’s injury and his marriage to Merida until once the battling ended.
“Nay. He remained back at home. Malcolm asked him to stay.”
Kieran nodded. “He was not too happy about it, I bet.”
“He was not.”
Tristan followed Kieran to a large table atop which was a map. As they studied it, the cook’s assistants entered with mugs of hot mulled cider.
The hot liquid warmed Tristan through as he continued to study the map. “Do ye think they will attack?” he asked his brother.
Kieran considered the question. “Unless they travel east and then approach, they will not have the vantage point to see how many men await here. They are about fifty or sixty in number.” His brother pointed to a place on the map. “I have archers there in wait. They will send a scout back with news once the aggressors arrive. It will give us time to set up.”
“Perhaps we should consider allowing them to see our men. It may discourage them from attacking.”
A man entered. His name was Naill and he was a head archer, a position equal to Kieran. Naill had traveled there with Tristan.
The two archers had never gotten along. Although amusing at times, he hoped they’d not argue this day.
“Where should we go and wait?” The man peered down at the map, ignoring Kieran.
Tristan waited for Kieran to instruct the archer and once the man departed, he searched out a bed to claim, deciding it was best to get as much rest as possible before the announcement of the approaching enemy.
*
Just after dawn, the scout, on horseback, galloped into the camp announcing the northern warriors had traveled most of the night, arriving earlier than expected. Ross warriors scrambled to dress, grabbed their shields and swords and hurried to prepare their horses.
Within an hour, every single warrior was mounted and headed to an open field atop a hill where they had the advantage of visibility. From where they formed, land was visible for miles.
Archers on horseback lined up side-by-side a distance forward from everyone else. With the advantage of sight and height, this would be a battle led by bows and arrows.
Kieran, atop his horse, was in line with the archers at the front. Once the archers began the assault, if the approaching fighters got past a point they’d predetermined, then the other Ross warriors would rush into the battle.
The thundering of horses’ hooves vibrated the ground and Duin shifted side to side, his giant feet pawing at the ground. The beast was as anxious as Tristan to ride into battle. His own heartbeat accelerated and his breathing deepened as he kept his eyes on the horizon.
Moments later, the front lines of the northern fighters came into view, the men slowing at spotting Clan Ross.
“There are fewer than I thought,” Tristan said to the fighter next to him. “Perhaps forty.”
“Aye,” the man said, eyes narrowed.
“Ready!” Kieran called out and the archers lifted their bows, arrows set to fly high before descending.
There was a standoff as the northern fighters seemed to regroup. Like the Ross’ warriors, they, too, had archers, but the warriors moved around to the front so that their archers would defend from behind.
The intruding warriors lifted their shields.
“They mean to fight,” Tristan mumbled. “Fools.”
“Sans Peur! Sans Peur!” With primal yells, the northern men rushed forward.
Clan Sutherland.
Although they’d not had an unfriendly relationship with the northern clan, they’d been aware of the new laird’s desire to grow his territory.
“Loose!” Kieran yelled and arrows flew into the air. About ten Sutherland men fell, but it didn’t slow the momentum of other warriors rushing forward.
Duin began to prance and Tristan knew the feeling. It was hard to allow archers to fight for them but, at the moment, it seemed to be working better than hand-to-hand combat, when another dozen fell from horses.
The few that were left rode sideways but continued forward in zigzag patterns that would be a good defense in a wooded area, but not in the open field. Another five or so were felled quickly.
Shouts sounded from the back of the lines and the men that were left turned around and galloped back to where they had come from. Only a couple tried to save those on the ground.
“Loose!” Kieran yelled again and more arrows flew. A couple men fell when pierced in the back, some continued riding with arrows protruding from their bodies.
Tristan lifted an arm and commanded his warriors to give chase. They would not fight this day, but a clear message was sent to Laird Sutherland. He’d just made a formidable enemy.
There were many survivors, as arrows didn’t always kill. Tristan and other warriors walked amongst the injured. He hoisted a man up who had an arrow piercing through his stomach. The man swayed, his eyes unfocused.
“Horse!” Tristan called. Another warrior brought a horse forward. Together, they hoisted the injured man onto the horse. “Tell yer laird that next time there will be no survivors.” He wrapped the animal’s reins around the man’s wrists and hit the horse on the rump.
Several more survivors were helped onto horses and the same message was given. One man in particular met Tristan’s gaze as he broke the arrow that protruded from his leg. Another had pierced his left arm and Tristan pushed it through. After that, he took the man’s belt and tied it around the upper arm. “Thank ye. I have a wife and three bairns to return to.”
“Yer laird should have considered our size before sending ye to fight.”
The man nodded and headed away.
Only a handful of men lay dead on the ground. Tristan did not take time to look at them. Instead, he went to find Duin as he wished to go back to the camp. Considering the lack of fighting, he wondered if the conversation with his brother would be harder.
There was no way to gauge what Kieran’s reaction would be to finding out about his marriage, the attack when returning from the Mackenzie’s and their uncle’s injury. Then there was the matter of the continued truce with the McLeods.
Later that day, a simple meal of mutton and bread was served as everyone settled for the evening.
Tristan and the warriors would wait another week before returning, as they wanted to ensure the Sutherland did not attack again.
Seated at a small table with Kieran and Naill, Tristan dipped his bread into the broth and plopped it into his mouth.
“I heard that Duncan Sutherland had taken over for his father who is on his death bed,” Kieran said between bites of bread. “He’s trying to make his mark.”
Tristan agreed. “Which is why we cannot be certain of what he will do next. A new and young power-hungry man is dangerous.”
“True,” Kieran replied. “How is Malcolm?”
A Hardened Warrior Page 16
