The Pledge

by Helen Mittermeyer

  He frowned. “I do.” He waited for his sister.

  Conal smiled up at her and followed.

  Morrigan clasped her hands and sent up a prayer of thanks.

  By the time she freshened herself, then hurried down to the great room, she was almost sure it wasn’t Hugh who’d arrived. If it had been he, there would’ve been a greater clamor, more of a bustle for refreshments. Cheers would’ve risen to her suite.

  Hiding her disappointment, she moved into the great room, a smile fixed to her face. When she saw the dour messenger and his coterie, alarm frissoned her spine. Putting her chin up, she approached. “I am Lady MacKay.”

  “This be for you, milady.” The messenger handed her the metal cylinder, then stepped back. “ ’Tis from Lord Kieran, Father MacKenzie.”

  Morrigan nodded, spreading the rolled parchment on the trencher board. She took deep breaths, the words dancing in front of her eyes.

  Dear Cousin,

  To bring you this news tears at my heart, but I must persevere. I cannot find Hugh. He never came to Edinburgh. I’ve sent runners almost every day since three days had passed, when we were to meet. No one has sighted him, nor his men. It’s as though Scotland has swallowed them. I fear they’ve been attacked by the rascals who prowl our land. I don’t wish to alarm you, but I sense that something drastic has happened to Hugh. I’ve sent runners to Edward of England and Edward Baliol. No one has news of him.

  Forgive this sorry missive.

  Kieran MacKenzie

  Morrigan crumpled the letter in her fist. She thumped the table with that hand, over and over again.

  “Milady?”

  “Who went with Hugh, Diuran?”

  “Why you know, milady. ’Twas Toric, Dylan, Keith, Carmody, and two attendants, Wull and Davy.”

  “Do you think them capable? Can they care for themselves?”

  “Milady, you jest. They are prime MacKays, strong, able, and unafraid.”

  Dry-eyed, she turned to him, taking deep breaths. She shoved the letter at him. “Read it.”

  Diuran took the crumpled sheets, perusing them twice.

  “What think you now?”

  White-faced, Diuran stared at her. “They are either dead, or confined, milady.”

  “So I feel.” She inclined her head. “I will not think them dead.”

  “Nor will I.”

  For long moments she stared into the fire, knowing full well that the power was hers, that if she took MacKays into the fray, some could die. Her heart squeezed with the agony of that. MacKays were her family. She loved them all. God and all the deities help her, she prayed. It was left to her to make this awesome choice.

  “Milady?”

  She shook herself from the reverie, facing him. “Awa’,” she said in Gaelic. “Bratach Bhan Chlann Aoidh.”

  Diuran sucked in air, straightening to his full height. When Morrigan again raised her voice in the MacKay battle cry, “the White Banner of MacKay,” he answered her in kind.

  Morrigan lifted her chin, shaken. “Ready yourself, Diuran, and a full complement of warriors. Leave the castle guarded and manned. Andra and Dilla will have the last word. Guards will be everywhere. Extra guardians on our children. Bring all families on the perimeter in closer to the castle, or into the bailey itself. Leave nothing to chance, no weak links.

  “Have the shepherds bring the sheep and stoats onto safe ground. Make sure they’re armed. Let loose the battle dogs to keep company with the guards and shepherds. The battlements will be manned night and day. Food will be brought in and stored. Water sources will be guarded with available streams and rivers channeled to our use. Prepare the blacksmiths. Advise them that they will work from dawn to dusk. Keep the lamps low and hoard the oils. Linens balled and wrapped will be soaked in these. Ready the flambeaux and catapults. Enlighten the friendly clans of what we will do.”

  “What is that, milady?” Diuran’s voice was faint.

  Morrigan took a deep breath, baring her teeth. “War. Like Boudicca, Queen of Wales in olden time, I’ll not let any strike at me and mine with impunity. Those who would try to abscond with one MacKay scone, from this day hence, shall pay the stiffest price. Those who would threaten any MacKay will answer to our steel. Once and for all they will see that we won’t allow usurping without a fight. They who have dared attack our laird shall pay full measure for their perfidy.”

  “Whom do we battle, milady?”

  “Any who dare to harm our laird, or who think to lay a hand upon him, or his people. England and Wales to start.”

  Diuran stared at her for long moments, then he slammed his fist across his chest like his Viking ancestors. “Aye, we will. From this day forward they’ll feel our wrath and none shall gainsay us.” He ran from the room.

  Morrigan looked up at the crest above the fireplace, a right hand grasping a sword. “I’ll find you, my Hugh, or die trying. I canna’ give you up,” she said, tears falling from her eyes, as she lapsed into Gaelic. When she heard the light cough, she turned to face Dilla, swiping at her eyes.

  “Milady, you mustn’t go. ’Tis not that long since you were abed with… with…”

  “Yes, yes, I know. I thank you for your concern, good Dilla, but I must go. I will lead the MacKays,” she said, her voice hard. “We will find our laird.”

  Dilla nodded, her eyes filling. “I shall guard the children with my life.” She gulped. “My Andra will die before aught breach our defenses.”

  Morrigan nodded. “I know that. Thank you. I’ll bring Hugh back, you know.”

  “You must. He’s been the savior to Clan MacKay.”

  “And he will continue to be so.”

  Dilla bit her lip. “My Andra would go wi’ you.”

  Morrigan shook her head. “I’ll take Urdred, your cousin, instead. I would like Andra’s cool head here. He knows how to protect the castle. He will be in charge.”

  Dilla’s mouth worked as she hurried closer to Morrigan. “He’ll not fail you.”

  Too choked with emotion to answer, Morrigan embraced her, smothering her own sobs when she heard Dilla’s.

  Hugh knew he must be hurt, and in a dark place. He could see nothing, nor could he move a muscle. It took moments to factor he’d been spread-eagled and tied with thongs. He smelled the freshness of the leather. That meant it didn’t bode well for him if he was bound for long. The ancient Phoenician trick was still very effective. The raw leather would dry and bind, and as it did it would cut and choke the flow of life’s blood from the limbs. The agony would be long and drawn out as the body died by inches, withering and pulled from its sockets by the inexorable bindings. He’d seen men scream in anguish as their limbs were yanked loose from their bodies by the shrinking hide. A favorite ploy of English Edward. Had he been caught in the maw of that deviate? Who would protect the clan and Morrigan if he died? No! Damn their eyes! He wouldn’t be taken that easily.

  His head hurt when he tried to recall. What had happened?

  “Hugh? I heard you move. Can you hear me?”

  “Toric? The men? Are you all right?”

  “We’re all here, but we’re not all right.” Toric groaned. “They’ve broken my legs, I fear. There won’t be much time for me.”

  Hugh cursed. “Listen to me, cousin. You don’t die. You hear me?”

  “Only the devil himself and us could hear you in this hell pit where they’ve flung us, Hugh. We’re in the bowels of Satan’s lair, I’ll be bound.”

  “What does it matter? We’ve fought our way out of worse hells. I command you to fight.”

  Toric’s chuckle was weak. “I’ll do my best to live, cousin. God knows they hit us hard. They’ve killed Wull and Davy.”

  Hugh grimaced. “They were but boys. How could they have harmed anyone?”

  “They couldn’t, but ’twould not be as sporting with them.”

  Memory was returning. They’d been leagues from Edinburgh when they were set upon by rabble.

  “They’ve begun games with
you? Damn! Are we in Wales?”

  “We are. They came at us from the trees if you recall.”

  “I’m not too clear on it, cousin. My head aches so I know a sap of some kind was used.”

  “Cudgels. We’ve been here three days when I’ve been aware.”

  “More than five turns of the sun,” a weak voice added.

  “Carmody? Are you well?” Hugh struggled against his bindings, but he couldn’t move.

  “They’ve blinded me, Hugh.”

  “Christ almighty.”

  “I’d rather they’d killed me.”

  “You’ll not despair. You’re a MacKay. You’ll learn to fight with your ears and nose and sense of touch. Forget your eyes.” Hugh was too gruff. Anger and frustration choked him. What barbarous cowards waged war in such a way? “Dylan?”

  “I’m here, Hugh. I’ve not been touched. They’re saving me for this day, I’m thinking.”

  “No! This time they’ll take me.”

  “Nay, Hugh. You must lie low. We will find a way to get you out,” Keith said. “They should be coming for me or Dylan next.”

  “Listen to me. Are you bound?”

  “Yes,” came the chorus of answers.

  “Not I. They blinded me and tied my hands, not my feet. I’ve freed myself.”

  “Good, we’ll rely on you, Carmody, to free us. When the time is right we’ll strike. No more sport with Mac-Kays. Are you with me?” The ayes were low but firm.

  “When they come for us, you’ll pretend to be bound.” Hugh winced when Carmody sawed at his bonds. “Whoever they take will fall down, making them drag the person. Whoever it is will groan and sag like wet sand. The focus will be on that. They’ll be angered. That’s when we take them.” Hugh groaned when he fell to the ground. He rubbed his limbs over and over, trying to get life back into them. “Remember not to move until they’re looking away. We can’t make a sound because we won’t know how many are outside the cell. Whatever happens, be quiet and calm.” He ripped away the bandage wrapped around his head and eyes, feeling the sting.

  “They didn’t mean to succor you with the rag, Hugh. They would keep you sightless,” Carmody told him, his hands going over his chief.

  “Fear not, my friend. They’ll pay, then we return to Castle MacKay.”

  “I wish for that.”

  “They masked us all,” Keith said.

  “All are free,” Carmody mentioned, as he stumbled from one to the other. “Shh. I hear something.”

  “Did I not tell you all would be well with you, Carmody?” Toric told him, then groaned.

  “Damn! Toric, how is your pain?”

  “Bad, but there’s a numbness to it. I can do what I must, Hugh.”

  “Good. When next they come, and if Carmody is correct, ’twill be soon, we attack, no matter how armed they are, how strong they think they are, we will best them. Will you fight with me, MacKays?”

  “Aye!”

  The resounding affirmative was muffled by a greater sound.

  “What is that?” Toric tried to heave himself up, but he fell back, moaning.

  “Shhh. It comes from beyond this holding. Someone approaches the castle,” Carmody said. “Mayhap ’Tis an assault.”

  “Aaagh!”

  “What is it, Keith?”

  “ ’Tis the bindings they put on my arms. Carmody, can you help with these? There be spikes wrapped in the thongs. I thought I could stand them. ’Twill not be easy to cut.”

  “I’ll bite them through, if I can’t release them,” Carmody vowed.

  “They’ll pay for this.” Hugh’s mind had begun to clear, at least enough for him to try and factor who his enemies were. Goll, Morrigan’s cousin, would be one. That bog-bound slime Tarquin would be another. That he coveted Morrigan’s holdings and monies was enough, that he would take her to wife was intolerable. This time he would die.

  More shouts and yells signaled even more of a disturbance beyond the castle. That sound filtered down reassured the MacKays that they were not in a well-built holding. In a proper dungeon, no sound would penetrate.

  “Is it an assault, then?”

  “ ’Twould help us if ’twere,” Keith answered Toric.

  When the MacKays heard running and raised voices they went still.

  “You know what to do,” Hugh muttered.

  “Aye.”

  Heavy grating was pulled open, rusty hinges squawking a protest. A torch was thrust into the cell.

  Before the light hit him, Hugh tried to bend away from it, make himself invisible.

  “Where is the leader?”

  “In there. Go. I’m at your back.”

  There was a flurry, a yelp, a scream. The torch fell and sputtered out in the rancid dampness of the stone floor.

  “Hugh?”

  “I’m here. What goes?”

  “The two of them have gone to visit Satan, their master,” Keith said.

  “Good. Get over here, and help me with Toric. Find the torch and see if there’s a flint by the door.”

  In short order the cell was lit, the keys of the keepers pocketed, their bodies slung upon the vermin-covered pallets.

  Toric was strapped between Keith and Carmody.

  Hugh stared at them. “You’ll make your way out into the throng. Move freely, and don’t slink. Find any old cart. Put Toric into it, and get away to Scotland.”

  “No! We’ll not leave you.”

  “You will…” He paused when he heard more running. They doused the torch and waited.

  Just outside the cell there were queries.

  “Where be Timon and Bemis?”

  “Killing the prisoners, I’ll be bound. We’ll have to tell them what’s occurred. Naught can believe it. I could’ve sworn my eyes deceived me. Who would’ve thought she dared? Like Boudicca she comes. ’Tis a sight, is it not? How can we go against her?”

  “If we don’t they’ll slay us and enjoy the sport.”

  “I like it not. She be a princess of our land.”

  Hugh stiffened, his movement causing a sound.

  “What be that?”

  “Bemis is strangling the prisoners. He’s a man who likes his work, to be sure.”

  “Let’s get the weapons and leave. I don’t like dungeons.”

  “You work in one, fool.”

  Soon the carping faded. The clanging and banging of weapons accompanied the attendants back out of the dungeon.

  “Hugh, I can’t let you face them alone,” Toric said in fading accents.

  “Stop. You know I cannot let you hold me back.”

  “That’s not why you send me away. I can’t make it back anyway. Let me fight at your—”

  Sounds of battle penetrated their cell.

  “Let’s get out of here first.” Hugh struck at the flint and relit the torch.

  Being undermanned and at a great disadvantage, they took what weapons they could and climbed the curving stairs, littered with refuse, out of the dungeon into a shouting melee of men who scrambled every which way with weapons. There was little order. That would be to MacKay advantage.

  Dylan grabbed a Welsh jerkin, pulling it over his head and donning the woolly headdress. He grabbed the arm of a running man. “Who attacks us?” he said in halting Celtic.

  “The damned Scots led by our own Princess Morrigan.”

  “Damn that woman,” Hugh cursed, proud, fearful, angry all mixed in with a love that almost choked him. “Why didn’t she stay home?”

  “She couldn’t,” Toric managed. “It’s not her nature.” He tried to laugh. Instead he fainted.

  A hand reached out and touched him. “Let me. I can care for him.”

  Hugh looked around, his eye widening. “Diodura?”

  “No. Her sister. We are twins. I wasn’t banned, though I’ve hated it here without her. My name is Latura. I have her skills, and I know thee, leader of the MacKays. My visions have told me you succor my sister.” She glanced at Toric. “I can make him well. I will need aid to mo
ve him.”

  Carmody moved to her side, then looked at Hugh. “I will meet you at Castle MacKay, Hugh MacKay. Fear not that I will have Toric with me.”

  “They’ve blinded you, but you’re unafraid,” the crone mentioned. “Fear not. Your courage will not fail you. You will see with your heart and become a wise man among your own.”

  Hugh smiled at her. “I agree. Have a care with them.”

  Latura nodded. “Come, we must hurry,” the hag whispered to Carmody. “Soon they’ll take note of us.” She eyed Hugh. “Go through there,” she said, pointing to a chamber. “There’s an opening to the bailey, seldom used.” She eyed him again. “I didn’t know how I was to free you. Diodura came to me in a vision and begged me to find you.” Her mouth drooped in mirth. “ ’Tis well you’re as adept as they say. You freed yourself.”

  “ ’Tis our way,” Carmody answered for his laird.

  “The gods have smiled on you, their leader,” Latura told Hugh.

  “Thank you. You will find sanctuary with the Mac-Kays as your sister has done, if you choose. Get back to Scotland with Toric, good friend.” Hugh clapped Carmody on the shoulder, then they turned toward the chamber.

  “Go with God, Hugh. Bring back our lady,” Carmody whispered into the air.

  “Fear not. He has the good wishes of the gods and goddesses. None will defeat him.”

  “Thank you,” Carmody whispered, hefting Toric and letting the witch lead him.

  SIXTEEN

  A great love goes here with a little gift.

  Theocritus

  Morrigan sat her destrier like a warrior, the split skirt she’d only worn on her holding in Wales serving her well. She’d endured the stares of the MacKays when first she’d left Castle MacKay, sure they were shocked. It’d astounded her when she caught their smiles of approval, their nods of appreciation. The leather garment had been tanned to a lightness that was far more comfortable than the heavy skirt she would’ve used for the sidesaddle. They’d been traveling all day, and when the moon was full, at night.

  She’d used all the good shortcuts through Wales that were unknown to any not of Welsh background. They’d not be expected to come that way. Now that they were at Goll’s holding, her being shuddered with the certainty Hugh was near. Every pulse beat told her so. She could almost feel him.