“He will kill her!” Gabel cried, but was unable to pull free of his cousins.
“And if you ride blindly to her rescue, you will be cut down,” said Justice. “That will do her no good, and she would not want it. She did this to save you, not to have you charge the whole MacNairn force in a fit of rage and misplaced gallantry.”
“Look,” said Michael, pointing toward the horrifying scene in the MacNairn camp. “There is at least one of those cowards who will not allow him to kill her.”
As he fought to push aside his blind rage, Gabel watched Colin MacNairn grab his father and pull him away. The pair wrestled furiously for a while, the younger man talking all the time. When he finally released Duggan MacNairn, he was struck so hard he fell beside a frighteningly still Ainslee, but Duggan did not return to his brutality. Instead, the laird of Kengarvey turned his attention to the men of Bellefleur.
Both sides glared at each other, but for a while all that was exchanged were a few bellowed insults. Gabel knew his men were eager to fight the MacNairns, furious at the treachery shown them. He hesitated because what had just happened showed him that he did not know what strengths his enemy had, or where all of his men were. There was also Ainslee to consider. If she was still alive, and he forced himself to believe that she was, she would be caught in the middle. The place he had chosen for the meeting had been carefully selected to protect him and his men; but it was not a good place to try and engage an enemy in battle.
“Are we to do nothing?” asked Michael, his handsome face taut with fury.
“I am trying to think of what we can do without risking our slaughter,” replied Gabel, his voice hoarse as he tried to control his own rage. “He will not come to us, so we will have to go after him, and that places us in the midst of the river.”
“Where his archers can murder us at their leisure,” said Justice, pounding his fist against his thigh in a gesture of frustration. “No matter how fast we ride, we will still lose too many of our men.”
“Find Ronald,” he ordered his cousins. “We must swallow our anger and pride and retreat, unless MacNairn tries to charge us, and I do not believe the man is that great a fool.”
“Surely Ronald is dead,” protested Michael.
“Then bring me his body so that I might give him the burial he deserves. I cannot aid her now, but at least she can know I cared for her friend.”
Gabel sat glaring at MacNairn as his cousins rode away. The man knew he was safe. He knew that Gabel would never risk the slaughter of his men in crossing the river. What galled Gabel even more was the sudden certainty that that was why MacNairn had so readily agreed to the meeting place he had chosen. Gabel had been looking for the safest place, and MacNairn had seen the perfect spot for treachery.
As he watched the MacNairns prepare to leave, their taunts searing his ears, Gabel turned his attention to Ainslee. Her brother Colin was tending to her and, when he saw her move slightly, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He had felt certain she was not dead, that Colin had stopped his father in time, but her stillness had troubled him. He felt even more at ease when he watched Colin take her to his horse, set her on his saddle, and mount behind her. For now she was safe from her father, and Gabel felt sure that Ainslee had learned how to stay out of her father’s way at Kengarvey. He wished Ronald was with her, but at least now he had proof that someone at Kengarvey was willing to keep her alive.
“Do we chase them, m’lord?” asked one of Gabel’s men as the MacNairns began to disappear into the thick wood on the opposite side of the river.
“Nay,” Gabel replied through gritted teeth as he fought to restrain his need to go after Duggan MacNairn and cut the man down. “It turns my stomach to but sit here and watch the dogs creep away, but we cannot win against them now. They set the trap and we rode into it. All we can do now is make certain that we do not all die because of my blindness. MacNairn will pay. Sadly, so will all of his people. The arrogant fool thinks he has won, but he has just signed the death warrant for his clan.”
Once the MacNairns were gone, Gabel and his men waited for Justice and Michael to return. Gabel sent a few of his men into the surrounding wood to watch for any further sign of treachery from the MacNairns. When he finally saw his cousins riding toward him, a blanket-wrapped form slung over Justice’s saddle, he sighed. It seemed most unfair that MacNairn’s betrayal should cost Ronald his life. When Ainslee finally learned of her friend’s fate, she would be heartbroken, as the old man had truly been her father as well as her companion.
“He is not dead yet,” Justice announced as he reached Gabel.
“Nay?” Gabel dismounted and took a closer look at the old man before calling for a litter. “How could he survive?” he muttered as he eased the unconscious Ronald off of the horse. “He has suffered an arrow wound to the chest and is chilled to the bone.” As he gently laid Ronald on the ground, he idly patted Ugly’s dripping head as the dog sat down next to the Scot.
“We saw the dog first,” explained Justice as he dismounted and stood next to Gabel. “The beast had pulled the old man from the river. We assured ourselves that he was still alive, tended the wound as best we could, and brought him back.” Justice shook his head as he studied Ronald. “I am not sure he will live to reach Bellefleur though.”
“He will live,” Gabel vowed as he helped strip Ronald of his wet clothes and wrap the man in blankets. “I have been naught but trouble and misery for Ainslee MacNairn, and there is more to come. At least I can give her back the one person who truly cares about her.”
“Do you really think you will ever see her again?” Justice asked quietly.
“I have to,” Gabel replied with an equal softness. “If only to beg her forgiveness for taking everything from her and giving her only heartache.”
Ainslee bit back a groan as consciousness returned and pain flooded her battered body. She felt a strong warm body at her back, and briefly hoped it was Gabel. One glance down at the hands on the reins was enough to smother that hope. She peeked over her shoulder and managed a shy smile for her grim-faced brother Colin. Although the memory of her father’s furious attack was mostly a blur of terror and pain, she knew it was Colin who had saved her life.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, and saw a brief glimpse of softness in his hard blue eyes.
“Ye are my blood. I couldna let my father kill my sister,” he replied in a flat voice.
“And the de Amalvilles?” she asked.
“Have returned to Bellefleur, no doubt to plan the best way to slaughter us.”
She shuddered, for she knew that was exactly the fate her father had brought down on their heads. “And Ronald?” She tensed for his reply.
“I dinna ken what his fate is,” Colin replied, a shadow of regret in his voice. “The last I saw of the mon he was tumbling down the river with that beast of yours racing after him. He took an arrow in the chest.” He tightened his grip on her when she swayed.
“He survived a serious wound before.”
“Aye, but no doubt he had ye fussing o’er him. He will be alone now.”
“Nay,” she said with a conviction she felt deep in her heart. “Sir Gabel will care for him.”
“For a MacNairn? Ye are mad.”
“Nay, Gabel will care for Ronald. He willna leave until he finds Ronald and, if my dear friend lives, Gabel will do all he can to make sure he survives, or he will give him the godly burial he deserves.”
“Weel, believe what ye will. I but pray that, in a few weeks time when we are all scattered on the ground in heaps, there is someone who has the kindness to bury us.”
Ainslee wished she could reassure her brother that their future was not so black, but she was not a good liar, and he had the wit to know when she did lie. Gabel would be in a rage over this treachery and, even if he could find some bloodless way to make her father pay for it, the king would not hear of it. Duggan MacNairn had just thrown away his clan’s last chance for survival, and this time he would no
t even be able to save himself and his precious sons.
“Wake, Ainslee, but dinna move.”
The whisper drew Ainslee from the restless sleep she had fallen into. She understood the warning behind Colin’s words. Her father was near, and she might draw his attention her way, if she was not careful. Colin might fight to keep her from being murdered, but he could not save her from everything her father might wish to do to her.
As they rode through the heavy gates of Kengarvey, Ainslee was astounded by the work that had been done. With so many enemies surrounding him, her father never had the time to build in stone, even if he had the coin to do so, but it was clear that the battered people of Kengarvey had become very skilled at swiftly enclosing themselves in a wooden keep. The thick stone walls of Kengarvey were still intact, and whatever had survived the latest fire had been put to good use. It did not really matter what her father built his keep of anymore, however, for Ainslee suspected that now even the magnificent Bellefleur could not protect the man.
Once inside the bailey, she caught sight of her father and trembled, hating the fear she felt, but unable to control it. When he dismounted and started to walk toward her, she slumped against Colin and feigned unconsciousness. She had not yet had the time to tend to the injuries he had dealt her, and she could not afford to have anymore added to them.
“So, the little whore is still in a swoon,” Duggan said as he stood next to Colin’s horse and glared at his youngest daughter.
“I believe it may be more serious than a swoon, Father,” Colin murmured. “And why do ye keep calling her a whore?”
“And what do ye think she has been doing with that Norman bastard whilst she has been at Bellefleur?”
“I have no proof that she has been doing anything with him.”
“Those monks softened your wits, lad. Of course, the mon had his fill of her and, since she looked quite hale as she rode to us, I believe she didna put up a fight. ‘Tis a good thing I had no marriage arranged for her, as it would ne’er be done now, and she has cost me enough.”
“I thought we had gained today, for we have Ainslee, and we still hold the ransom ye collected.”
“Aye, true enough. I spit squarely in that Norman pig’s eye, and he willna soon forget it.”
“Nay, he certainly willna,” Colin agreed in a heavy voice.
“Weel, toss the stupid lass somewhere, and come and feast with us. ’Tis a day for celebration.”
“I will join ye soon,” Colin said, but his father was already striding into the keep.
After peeking to be sure that her father had left, Ainslee sat up a little straighter. “He truly believes he has won,” she murmured, astounded that her father could be so blind.
“He did win today,” Colin said as he dismounted, then reached up to take her into his arms.
“Aye, one could say that, but he lost far more than he gained.” She gritted her teeth against the pain in her body as Colin carried her inside and started up the narrow wooden stairs. “He is a dead mon. Ye ken that, dinna ye?”
“Aye, I ken it Ye will see that the fire hasna destroyed everything. ’Tis charred, but your tiny room is still intact.”
“There is a blessing.”
It was not until she was tucked up in her small bed, her injuries washed and bandaged, that Ainslee found another chance to speak privately with Colin. He sat on the edge of her bed and helped her drink some mead. She wished he did not look so downcast, but she had nothing to say which might lift his spirits.
“Ye must leave Kengarvey, Colin,” she said, and reached out to clutch his thin hand in hers.
“Oh? And where shall I go?”
“Back to the monks?”
“I can ne’er go back there. When our father decided I didna need any more learning, he not only took me out of there, but most all else that was of value.”
“He stole from a church? From holy men?”
“Aye, but dinna think all monks are holy men, lass. There were a few there who were weel steeped in sin, and cared little about saving their souls.”
“Weel, there fades my faith in the church.” Ainslee was a little surprised when Colin gave a short bark of laughter. “Gabel will be back, Colin.”
“I ken, and I notice that ye call him Gabel. Mayhaps Father is right.”
“That I am a whore?”
“Nay, only in saying that ye were bedded down with the mon.”
She blushed and grimaced. “Weel, that doesna matter.”
“Not to me, but I shouldna let Father ken that there may have been a softness in that Norman toward you. He would think it something he could use, and ye will find yourself back to standing squarely between the two.”
“Never. I shall never go through that again. But, heed me, Colin, for it could save your life. Gabel will come, and he will raze Kengarvey to the ground. He has no choice. The king will command it. What we must pray for is that only the men from Bellefleur will come to kick down our gates.”
“I canna see that that is something to pray for. How can it help us?”
“Gabel canna hate a person simply because they carry the name MacNairn. He kens the value of mercy. Aye, I think he now has no choice but to kill our father, or at least deliver him to the king, who will kill him. What I fear is that others will join the battle, ones who dearly wish to see every last MacNairn drown in a pool of his own blood, ones such as the Frasers and the MacFibhs.”
Colin sighed and ran his hands through his long, ill-cut auburn hair. “Then we are truly doomed, for they willna cease until naught is left of Kengarvey save blood and ashes.”
“I ken it. So, if—nay, when—the enemy comes and ye see that the battle is lost, get yourself to a mon from Bellefleur and surrender.”
“Why? So that I too may be dragged before the king in chains? I much prefer to die by the sword than meet the gruesome death he will deal out.”
“So that ye may have a chance to live. Gabel has sworn that he will do all he can to save all he can. Our father is a dead mon. He died when the first arrow was shot at the river. Ye need not die with him. Nay, not ye or our brothers, if ye can put yourselves in Gabel’s hands. Truly, he doesna wish to eradicate the whole clan. He but seeks peace, and he is willing to believe that he could deal with the sons, even if he can ne’er deal with the father.”
“And how does he mean to deal with the daughter?” Colin asked quietly.
“He means to keep me alive, but he can do nothing else.” She smiled sadly as she relaxed against the hay-stuffed sacks that served as her pillows. “He is too good a mon for a lass like me. Swear to me, Colin, that ye will try to save yourself, and mayhaps one or all of our brothers.”
“I have no wish to die, Ainslee.”
It was not until he left that Ainslee realized he had not sworn to anything. She sighed, realizing that he probably did not believe her, thought that her talk of Gabel’s mercy came from the blindness of a lovesick girl. There was still time to convince him, for she knew it would be weeks before a full battle could be fought. It could even be spring before Duggan MacNairn was forced to pay the full price for his treachery.
She struggled to put aside all her concerns, her fear and grief for Ronald and the pain of leaving Gabel, so that she could rest. It was important that she heal and grow strong again. Before the final battle came to their gates, she was going to have to try and speak to her father, to make him see that he was condemning everyone, and that, even if he could not save himself, he should at least try to save his clan. Such a confrontation could cost her her life and she knew it, but she could not cower in her room without even trying to save her people. At best, she would simply suffer another fierce beating, and she wanted to be strong enough to endure and survive it.
Before she gave in to the urge to sleep, she prayed for Ronald, prayed that he had been found and was alive. If she survived the weeks ahead, she was going to be in need of him, and she did not want him to have paid such a dear price for the treachery of hi
s laird. She also prayed for Gabel. She knew he had seen how her father had greeted her, and his one true concern had been for her safety. He was undoubtedly feeling guilty, and she wanted to survive long enough to relieve him of that burden.
Fifteen
“Ye must speak to the lad,” Ronald said, looking at the two forlorn young men sitting on his bed. “He has sulked for a week now, and that isna helping anyone.”
Justice exchanged a grimace with Michael, and then looked at Ronald. “I am not sure Gabel can help anyone. He knows, as we all do, that he must now face the king with failure and take up the sword against your clan.”
“Aye, for that fool Duggan has given the laddie no choice.”
“You are most calm and accepting about the fact that your people are facing destruction.”
“My people have been facing destruction for years, since my father’s time and, mayhaps, before that. I am nay calm about it for—believe it or not as ye choose—but there are good people there, people who dinna deserve to pay for Duggan’s bloody crimes. Howbeit, the sword has been hanging o’er our heads for many a year, and though it grieves me that Sir Gabel will be the one to wield it, I dinna blame him. I think what truly troubles him is that wee Ainslee is trapped inside those walls.”
“Aye,” agreed Michael. “I think what also deeply troubles him is that he had to sit on that riverbank and watch the girl nearly beaten to death. He could do nothing to help her, and that is a sore blow to a man’s pride.”
“Weel, ’tis past time that he ceased to nurse his poor wee bruised pride and did something.” Ronald smiled when both young men laughed. “I would go and do something meself, at least for my poor lassie, but I need to regain my strength.”
“You are very lucky to be alive, you old fool,” Justice said, a hint of affection in his voice softening the scold. “You took an arrow in that skinny chest and suffered a long swim in the cold water of that cursed river. And you lost a lot of blood. I grow weary of tracking you by what is leaking out of your old body.”
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