To Tempt a Knight

by Gerri Russell

  The men set up camp at the edge of the inlet, where they couldn’t be seen by the castle towers. It wasn’t long before watch fires bloomed against the gray of dusk that cast Stonehyve Castle in shades of angry, unyielding black.

  When the campsite had been settled, the men gathered near the fires, eating bowls of a hearty rabbit stew they had brought with them. William stood near his own fire, staring not into the flames, but at the sky. The moon perched heavy and full over the mountain peaks. Stars hung suspended by the millions, but the light they shed did little to alleviate the growing tension that stirred within his chest.

  “You look as far away from here as those stars,” Siobhan said, coming to stand beside him.

  “I feel far away.” His attention shifted to her and he felt a sudden calm come over him. Curious that on the eve of battle, he would find comfort in anything, let alone the woman whose very presence usually distracted him.

  “Are you worried about the morrow?”

  He shook his head. “Just thinking about how we’ll force our way inside.” His eyebrows came down in thought. “I’ve been trying to remember if there are ways to enter the castle other than through the front gate. With our limited numbers, it would be wiser to pursue a less direct approach.”

  Simon came to sit beside William. “I’ve been giving that some thought as well.” A sudden hush went out over the camp as every ear turned to their conversation.

  “Gather round, men,” William called out. If they were to put their lives on the line tomorrow, they deserved some say in their plan of attack.

  They abandoned their campsites to huddle around where William stood. Momentarily his breath quickened as he thought back to the last time he had gathered around a fire with other Templars. It was the last time he had seen some of his brothers alive.

  Simon caught William’s gaze across the fire. “We are on our homeland, the land of our ancestors, of our fellow Templars,” he said, knowing as he always did where William’s thoughts had gone.

  William looked at the faces of the men gathered round. In their gazes he saw confidence, and no fear. He shook off his memories of the past and focused on the here and now. “Our enemy rises before us like a hissing serpent, which we must either capture or remove from this world if we are to protect our brothers, as well as our countrymen.”

  “How will we do it?” one of the men opposite William asked.

  Red-orange flames licked greedily at the wood in the fire, casting all who gathered in a warm, golden glow. “I was hoping to avoid a direct attack. Our numbers would be better used in some sort of ploy.”

  “Can we enter through the moat and into the drainage system beneath the castle?” Lucius asked.

  “And then enter through the garderobe?” another man beside him countered. A general roar of disgust followed the suggestion.

  “Is there a sally port somewhere along the castle walls?” Simon asked. “We could use a crossbow to send up a rope. With luck it will anchor in the wall, and we can pull ourselves up the side.”

  “Without being seen?” Robert Tam asked. “Too risky. We will be too visible.”

  “Perhaps we could try that approach at night?” another man suggested.

  One of the monks from the monastery stood. “We have everything we need here in the nearby woods to build a trebuchet. With that we could break through the outer walls.”

  Simon shook his head. “We don’t have time to build a trebuchet. Besides, as soon as they see us building such a weapon, they will charge us. If our scouting parties are correct, de la Roche’s men outnumber us ten to one.”

  “A Trojan horse.” A female voice cut through all the others.

  When silence fell, Siobhan repeated, “What we need is a Trojan horse, the ploy used by the Greeks to enter the city of Troy.”

  “If we don’t have time to build a trebuchet, why would we have time to build that?”

  “We don’t need to build anything.” Siobhan stood and moved away from the fire to where William had left his saddlebag. She returned a moment later with the leather casing and scroll in her hands. “I shall be the Trojan horse.”

  Murmurs arose from the men. William silenced them with his hand, even though the very idea made him more than a little uneasy. “Let her continue.”

  “You’ll all hide against the castle wall or in places where you cannot be seen by the sentries during the night. At first light, I’ll approach the gates and demand to see de la Roche, saying I’m ready to trade knowledge of the Templar treasure for my father.”

  Siobhan pulled the scroll to her chest. “From what I’ve seen of de la Roche’s hunger for the treasure, he’ll not refuse. He’ll order the gates be opened, and then you’ll attack.”

  “Nay,” William said with force. “Too many things can go wrong. I’ll not put you in danger like that again.”

  “I’m putting myself in danger.” Siobhan’s tone was suddenly fierce. “I may not be able to fight like a Templar Knight, but I’m strong enough to do this one thing.”

  William softened his voice. “I know you’re strong, Siobhan.”

  “Then let me do this.”

  “It might work,” Simon acknowledged from his seat nearby. “We could hide in trenches alongside the drawbridge. As soon as the gate is open, we could attack.” His eyes brightened. “It just might work.”

  “How do we dig trenches under the light of a full moon without the guards seeing us?” William asked, still adamantly opposed to risking Siobhan’s safety.

  “You leave that to us,” the Dunn brothers chimed in. “We are quite adept at distracting the nightwatch. You could dig a tunnel, and they’ll never suspect a thing when we get going.”

  “Is this a plan we can agree to?” Lucius asked the others.

  A hearty cheer of “Aye” rose from the men. Siobhan met William’s gaze. “You’re always asking me to trust you. For once, please trust me on this. It will work to get you all inside the fortress.”

  William inclined his head. The men had already decided her plan was a good one. He could say nothing to counter that argument. But there was no reason he couldn’t go to extraordinary means to keep her safe regardless. In keeping with that notion, he moved back to his saddlebag and reemerged with the sword he had taken with him from the Templar treasure room.

  He handed the sheathed blade to Siobhan. “Take this. Promise me you’ll wear it as we proceed with this plan.”

  Her eyes glittered as she accepted the weapon with her free hand. “Excalibur?” She offered him a brilliant smile that alleviated some of the unease in his chest. “Thank you.”

  “For when I cannot be near to protect you.”

  She brought the legendary weapon to her chest. “I’ll treasure it always.”

  Trea sure. Their journey began with treasure. It seemed only fitting it should end with treasure as well.

  “To our success.” William unsheathed his sword and raised it in salute to his comrades.

  Every weapon joined his in salute. “To success,” the others chanted as one.

  Siobhan rose before dawn. William had encouraged her to rest while everyone else worked through the night. The others were now gone, set in their places. Before beginning her part of the plan, she knelt upon the ground of the campsite. She listened to the sound of her heartbeat, feeling her breath, letting her courage flow through her.

  She reflected on the past ten days she’d spent with William. So much had changed in her life, in herself, during that time. Despair no longer settled inside her, making her doubt her decisions. She no longer feared the unknown, for the unknown made life an adventure. Every day could be filled with excitement and joy if she just left her heart and mind open to the possibility, and if she believed she was strong enough to handle whatever came her way.

  Like today. She had told William she was strong enough to go up against de la Roche on her own. She rose. She was that strong and more. Siobhan retrieved Excalibur and secured its scabbard about her waist.
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  Dawn approached. Siobhan could see the first shimmer of light through the hazy clouds above. Picking up the scroll, she made her way up the long path to the castle.

  The castle was strangely quiet as she walked down the broad approach. There were no signs of William or the others as she stood at the edge of the moat that separated the pathway from the castle gate. She and William had shared their parting words earlier. He’d wished her success after he’d given her multiple tips on how to keep herself safe. She smiled at the memory.

  William cared for her, whether he had expressed it in words or not. She knew he did; his every action told her so.

  She stopped at the edge of the deep moat. It was time to begin. She straightened her shoulders. “Greetings,” she called out.

  “State your purpose,” a deep voice high above responded.

  Her smile slipped as the gatekeeper poked his head from the gatehouse. Beady eyes fixed her with a stare that even at this distance raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

  “I’ve come to see Monsieur de la Roche. I want to exchange the map to the Templar treasure for my father.”

  The man disappeared. All remained silent. A moment later he reemerged. “His lieutenant will see you.”

  “No,” Siobhan stated boldly. “I shall see de la Roche and no other.”

  The man laughed, the sound harsh in the still morning air. “You are hardly in a position to demand anything as you stand there alone. The men of this castle could be upon you in a moment.”

  Siobhan set the scroll at her feet, then unsheathed her sword and fingered the flint she had taken from William’s saddlebag. She drew the stone against the blade, sending sparks toward the ground. “I could burn this scroll before you could so much as lower your gate.”

  Silence filled the air as he vanished inside the gatehouse once more. After a long moment, chains rattled inside the castle and the groan of gears sounded as the drawbridge came down. It settled against the ground with a thump, and the gates to the castle opened to reveal de la Roche.

  Siobhan picked up the scroll and waited until the portcullis had fully risen before she started across the thick wooden structure that provided access into the fortress. With each step, her heart pounded in her chest. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she continued forward.

  De la Roche remained where he stood, inside the gate, with the Spear clutched in his hand. A flicker of grudging admiration crossed de la Roche’s face as he studied her. “You are a surprise, my dear.”

  “How so?” She had to keep him talking, distract him, until William and the others were ready to proceed.

  His thin lips pulled up in a smile. “To have you show up here, to offer me the scroll, all for the sake of your father’s pitiful life.”

  Siobhan drew a slow, steady breath as she allowed the abuse to slide over her. She had to stay in control. “You may have the scroll and the treasure, but first I want to see my father. Bring him to me.”

  “Now I understand William Keith’s interest in you. You’re far more daring than one expects. Unfortunately, that interest also makes you one of them. You’ll die like all the others.” His laughter boomed out in the empty bailey.

  The empty bailey. Where were all the warriors? How could William’s men attack if there was no one to attack? A sick feeling centered in her stomach. Had their ruse somehow been discovered? Siobhan forced her breathing to slow and her mind to stay focused.

  De la Roche’s smile vanished. “If you want to see your father before you die, you’ll have to come with me.” He reached for the scroll. “I’ll be taking this from you.”

  She held the scroll tight. “If I am to die, then kill me now.”

  His gaze narrowed. He brought the tip of the Spear to rest against the underside of her neck. “Don’t issue a challenge you aren’t prepared to fulfill.”

  Siobhan’s hand tightened on the scroll. Her other hand drifted to her sword. As William had taught her, she drew the sword swiftly and knocked the Spear away from her neck. De la Roche was thrown off balance. He stumbled.

  Siobhan shuffled back, placing the length of the Spear between them.

  De la Roche roared a deep-throated call to arms.

  Out of nowhere, men erupted from within the bailey—from behind walls, towers, across the top of the battlements. They charged Siobhan, their swords raised.

  Her breathing stopped. Her heart thundered. She hugged the scroll to her chest like a shield. She prepared for battle, her sword held high. De la Roche glared at her with his pale, eerie eyes. He pulled his arm back, ready to thrust the Spear at her.

  A single shout of challenge rent the air. Footsteps sounded behind her.

  Siobhan dared not take her gaze from her foe as they charged forward. One warrior bore down on her and hit Siobhan hard. She absorbed the strike with her own sword. Before she could complete her parry, the man flew backward with a slash to his chest.

  William.

  She could feel his presence at her back. “Well done, ma chérie.” Savage satisfaction tore through Siobhan at the sound of his voice.

  At William’s command, the Templars surged forward from the hidden depths of the trenches they had dug the night before. On foot, they charged through the open gates, once again proudly wearing their Templar tunics. They surged through the bailey like blood-flecked waves of the sea.

  William led the charge as he struck one man’s sword, then another’s, taking them both down in a single hit. The battle raged around him. His men were holding their own against de la Roche’s and his uncle’s forces. He slashed, severed an arm, stabbed a thigh.

  Simon charged forward, his sword ever in motion. “Glad to see we’ve not forgotten how to fight.” He ducked as a blade aimed at his head hacked down in an arc. The blade missed. Simon brought down the attacker instead.

  “Aye,” William agreed. His eyes were on one target: Siobhan. He threw himself against the ground, rolled and came up instantly to pierce the man who charged her. The man stumbled backward and collapsed, undone.

  The screech and clangor of steel, along with noisy grunts of exertion, filled the bailey. De la Roche charged William. Spear down, he thundered forward. “I’ll kill you and have your head on a pike, Templar. I’ll burn what’s left of you later.”

  William braced himself for impact. De la Roche wouldn’t triumph. Not this time.

  De la Roche struck. William twisted to the left, sending de la Roche behind him. Two warriors charged William. He caught one in the stomach with his foot and plunged his sword through the chest of the other.

  On the offensive now, William forced de la Roche back. Anticipation flared in his belly as fear entered the Frenchman’s eyes. De la Roche stepped back, hesitating. William pressed forward. A stroke of his sword took the blade from the Frenchman’s hand. A second stroke caught the man in the chest and sent him flying backward against the ground. He lay there stunned or hurt. William wasn’t sure which.

  From out of nowhere, another swordsman appeared. This warrior was older, with gray hair and a full beard. “Damn you for interfering,” a familiar voice called out.

  William hesitated. The sword before him came down and caught him in the chest. His mail held, but the impact stole his breath for a heartbeat. His gaze locked on his attacker’s face. Those gray eyes were so familiar, so like his father’s had been.

  His uncle. Alasdair Keith.

  They faced each other. Thrust. Parry. Engaging each other, counterthrusting without a break in their strides or in the rhythm of their movements. Out of the corner of his eye, William could see that de la Roche still remained on the ground.

  William lunged, caught his uncle in the thigh. The man stumbled, went to one knee. Dropped his sword. Empty-handed, he stared up with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. “Why come back now?”

  “I would never have returned had it not been for your helping de la Roche.”

  His uncle remained on his knees, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his
breath.

  “Why did you kill them?” William nicked the flesh at his throat. Fear pervaded his uncle’s tired, watery eyes.

  Alasdair stared into the face of death, and he knew it. “I wanted what your father had.” His mouth twisted. “This castle, your mother. But they chose death instead of surrender.”

  William clenched his jaw as he cast yet another quick glance at de la Roche, who struggled to sit up as he caught his breath. “Why help de la Roche?”

  A warrior charged William. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. His gaze never left his uncle’s as he pierced the man clear through, then kicked his body aside.

  “Why?” the word was as hard as his gaze.

  “I needed you out of the way.” His uncle shrugged. “’Tis not complicated.”

  Not complicated? Hope, betrayal, fear, anger mixed in caustic turmoil through his chest. Should he take this life? The murderer of his family? His own uncle? A man who clearly held no affection for him?

  If he did, would that make him the same kind of savage that his uncle and de la Roche had become?

  His uncle laughed. “You’ve got no backbone, boy! Your conscience will be the end of you, mark my words.”

  William clutched the hilt of his sword. Pain radiated through his grip. His breath ran harsh in his throat. He was different from these men. He couldn’t kill just to solve a problem.

  A scream tore William’s attention from his uncle.

  Siobhan. She fought against two men. From the look on her face and the angle of her sword, he could see fatigue setting in. He had to help her. William turned back to his uncle.

  The man had retrieved his sword. “You’re a fool,” his uncle ground out.

  William spun. Too late. The blade cut into his forearm, yet he managed to hold on to his sword. Drawing on every fiber of strength he possessed, he hurled himself forward.

  He caught his uncle by the shoulders, and together they slammed into the rocky ground. William’s arm bled as they rolled together, each trying to gain the advantage.