Gabel was still cursing Fraser when he reached the room he shared with his cousins. He poured himself a tankard of hearty mead and drank most of it down before he felt his fury ease a little. There was still a chance that he could get the promise of mercy he needed, and he gained nothing by ranting about Fraser. He was just glad that Lady Margaret was not at court this time, for he knew he did not have the patience to deal with that woman without saying or doing something that could cause a scandal.
“The meeting did not go well?” asked Justice.
“Nay,” grumbled Gabel. “Fraser was there, and had obviously been using his time here at court to fill the king’s ears with lies. I should like to believe that they have not all been heeded by our liege, but I cannot be sure. I will not know what has been decided about Kengarvey and its people until this evening.”
“You must take hope in the fact that the king was not raging about your failure to get the treaty he sought, nor did he become enraged when you asked him for the right to make merciful choices concerning the people of Kengarvey.”
“True, yet I have an ill feeling about all of this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want mercy, and the king wants revenge for the insults MacNairn has dealt him. I have this dull feeling that the king will try to give us both what we want.”
“How can he do that?”
“I do not know, but it will bode ill for the MacNairns.”
“He wishes me to do what?” Gabel bellowed, causing the king’s messenger to take several nervous steps backward.
“Ye are to go to Kengarvey and see that MacNairn dies. If the mon survives the battle, then ye are to bring him here.”
“That was not what caused me to bellow, young man. ’Tis what else you just said. I am not allowed to do this on my own?”
“Nay, Sir Gabel,” the messenger replied, his voice unsteady. “Ye are to allow Sir Fraser and his men to go with you. The MacFibhs are also to be allowed to join the fight. Our liege believes that ye will need the extra armed men if ye are to defeat Duggan MacNairn.”
“But to send Fraser and the MacFibhs? They loathe the MacNairns, and would like nothing better than to see even the last and smallest child cut down.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair when the messenger just stared at him. “Go and tell the king that I will ride for Bellefleur in the morning, collect my men, and ride straight for Kengarvey, if the weather continues to remain in my favor.”
The moment the king’s messenger left, Gabel paced the room and swore vociferously. He stopped only when he noticed how warily Michael and Justice were watching him. Slouching in one of the small, hard chairs in the room, he took several deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. He needed to plan what he would do, for, with the Frasers and MacFibhs also fighting the MacNairns, he had to be sure that he found a way to protect as many of the McNairns as he could.
“I do not understand,” said Justice. “How can he grant you the power to give mercy where you will, yet set upon the MacNairns two of their worst enemies? Who does the king think will be left if the Frasers and MacFibhs ride in there with an order of fire and sword against the MacNairns?”
“I think the king knows full well that Fraser and even the MacFibhs are going to do their utmost to cut down every MacNairn they can, from Duggan himself to the tiniest suckling child. My job, if I do crave mercy, will be to run about and see how many I can save from the sword.”
“This will not set well with our men. They hate the Frasers,” said Michael. “I do not think there is one of your men-at-arms, who would truly wish to ride at the side of the Frasers.”
“Well, they shall have to swallow their distaste. I cannot afford any of my men dragging their feet Come, we had better get some rest, as we will have to leave at dawn. I cannot even allow my men the chance to resign themselves to fighting alongside the Frasers, for I think we must get to Kengarvey as swiftly as possible. I do not want those two bloodthirsty clans clamoring at MacNairn’s door before I have even reached the battlefield.”
Sixteen
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Ainslee slipped into the great hall. She grimaced as the smell of filthy rushes and equally filthy bodies assaulted her nose. Although she tried not to, she found herself comparing it to the one at Bellefleur. It was not only the lack of finery or the wooden walls that made Kengarvey’s great hall look like a hovel next to Bellefleur’s. Even the poorer dress of the people inside and the hearth in the middle of the room sending acrid smoke up through a hole in the roof were not what made the difference. It was the filth, the disarray, and the general squalor. It was also the sullen and fearful moods of the people gathered there.
Ainslee crept along the wall even as she scolded herself for approaching her father so timidly Her skin was still smeared with livid bruises from the beating he gave her the week before at the river. The thought of enduring another one made her stomach clench from fear. Looking around at the people gathered in the hall, she wondered why she should risk so much for them. They would simply stand by and watch if her father decided to beat her to death, yet she was risking just that in the faint hope of saving some of them. It was loyalty to the clan, to Kengarvey and the few good people still within its walls that pushed her, and she decided that loyalty was not always very sensible.
To her relief the men gathered around her father left before she reached him. Only Colin and her eldest brother George remained. Without his men around, Duggan MacNairn might well be ready to listen to reason, for he would feel no need to display his strength and lack of fear to anyone.
“Father,” she said as she stepped up to his scarred and battered chair. Her voice was hoarse and unsteady and she hastily cleared her throat, not wanting him to scent the fear she felt in facing him.
“Where did ye get that gown?” Duggan MacNairn demanded, roughly taking a fold of her skirt between his dirty fingers to fondle the material.
Inwardly cursing her lack of forethought in putting on one of the gowns Elaine and Marie had given her, Ainslee subtlely tugged her skirt free of his grasp. “The ladies of Bellefleur gave them to me.”
“They didna think what I dressed ye in was fine enough, eh?”
“My clothes had suffered from my capture and the journey to Bellefleur.”
“Humph. I suspect it wasna the ladies who dressed ye so fine, but that Norman ye have been rutting in. ’Tis clear ye have no shame, or ye wouldna be flaunting your whore’s attire.”
It was going to be more difficult than I thought, she mused, as she fought down a brief flare of anger over his insults. The man was blinded by the strength of his own pride, yet had no consideration for the pride of others. She decided that the best thing to do was to ignore his insults, to keep talking as if he had never said such cruel things.
“The laird of Bellefleur is going to come and avenge the treachery at the river.”
Duggan shrugged. “Someone is always clamoring at the gates of Kengarvey. We will drive them away as we have always done, and we will rebuild.”
“Not this time, Father.” She tensed when his eyes narrowed and he leaned closer to her. “The laird of Bellefleur is acting under the king’s command. ’Twas at Sir Gabel’s urgings that the king allowed him to try and bring about a bloodless peace. He willna give ye a second chance.”
“I dinna believe I asked the bastard for one.”
There was such a tight coldness in her father’s voice that Ainslee almost stopped and fled the room, for she knew his temper was stirring. “Father, ’twill be no small battle ye face this time, no squabble with the MacFibhs or sword-clashing with the Frasers. Ye have signed your death warrant, and that of everyone here.”
“I have had the threat of death looming o‘er me for years. I am thinking that ye have stayed with those Norman interlopers for too long, for ’tis clear that ye have forgotten who ye speak to, lass.”
“Nay, I ken exactly who I speak to—the laird of Kengarvey.” His growing anger terrified
her, but she felt a flicker of her own temper seep up through her fear. The man was refusing to listen, refusing to see how much danger he had put them all in. “ ’Tis time ye acted like the laird and gave some thought to your people.” Her voice rose to a startled squeak when he suddenly leapt to his feet and grabbed her by the front of her gown.
“The bruises I gifted ye with before arena even gone, and yet ye stand here and beg for another beating.”
“I but try to save some of the people of Kengarvey. The bloodletting that will soon come will leave no mon, womon, or child alive. Canna ye see that?”
She bit back a cry when he slapped her and tossed her to the floor. Shaking with fear, she stood up to face him again. “ ’Twill not only be Sir Gabel who rides here, sword raised high, but every other enemy ye have. We shall face a sea of men who hate you, and wish to see every MacNairn rotting on the ground. Do ye care nothing for your own people?” She neatly ducked his swing, but knew she could not avoid his fists for long. “If ye canna save yourself, at least think of the bairns, of your sons.”
Before she could say another thing, he set upon her with a fury she could not evade. She fell beneath the strength of his blows. Curling up, she tried to avoid the full force of his kicks, but the pain he inflicted soon had her reeling close to unconsciousness. When he pulled her to her feet by her hair, she tried to cover her face, and he struck her in the stomach. Then, suddenly, she was free of his grasp. Her eyes already swelling shut, she could not see clearly, but she knew Colin had leapt to her rescue again. To her astonishment, her father immediately stepped back.
“Ye push my love for ye to its verra limits, laddie,” Duggan said, his voice hoarse from the fury still possessing him.
“Ye canna kill the lass,” said Colin.
“I wasna trying to kill her. I was just beating some respect into her dim-witted head. The lass thinks she is better than she is just because she spread her legs for some laird the king favors.”
“She was trying to help Kengarvey. She is afraid. That is all.”
“If she wished to help Kengarvey so badly, she should have asked that rutting Norman for a few favors whilst he was spilling his seed into her. Aye, and if there is some bastard growing in her belly, e’en ye willna stop me from beating it out of her.”
“Let me take her to her room,” Colin said as he picked Ainslee up in his arms. “Then ye dinna need to see her.”
“I had better not see the whore for a verra long time,” Duggan yelled after his son as Colin began to walk out of the great hall.
“Are ye mad?” snapped Colin as he started up the steps to her bedchamber.
“I wished to try and save Kengarvey, or at least some of it,” she replied, slumping against his shoulder and wondering if her words sounded as slurred to him as they did to her.
“Why dinna ye just try and think of keeping yourself alive?”
“We will all be slaughtered if our father doesna try to make amends.”
“I dinna think he can make amends now. No king can look strong, yet forgive a mon for the many crimes and treachery Father has committed. Our father has made no attempt to hide his scorn of the king. I was surprised when we were offered a chance to make a treaty. We shall ne’er get a second chance.”
Ainslee made no reply as Colin called over a timid maid who lurked in the hallway. She helped Colin put her to bed and tend her wounds, then scurried away. Wincing as she did so, Ainslee leaned against her pillow and sipped at the mead Colin served her as he sat on the edge of the bed. It hurt her mouth to drink, and she knew it was bruised, cut, and swollen again.
“Father ne’er will,” she agreed. “Gabel is willing to extend the hand of peace to any who wish to lay down their arms.”
“Ye sound so certain of that.”
“I am. If only Gabel were facing us, I would have no fear for the innocent and helpless ones trapped within the walls of Kengarvey. Gabel would ne‘er hurt them. Howbeit, ’twill not be just Gabel.”
“I am nay sure I can accept your word that the mon would be so kind to MacNairns. Aye, ’tis clear that he was kind to you and to the old mon, but the mon was sharing your bed, and we all ken that no one can hurt Ronald without ye stepping to his aid.”
“Gabel was kind to me ere I even let him kiss me. I wish I could make someone here listen to me,” she said, her voice unsteady, shaken by pain and a growing frustration.
“If ye keep trying, ye will be dead, and then ye will ne‘er see your fine Norman knight again, nor help anyone when the battle finally commences.” He gently patted her on the arm when she looked at him, her annoyance and disappointment clear to read in her expression. “Rest, Ainslee. E’en if the weather holds fine, our doom canna ride to our gates for another fortnight or so, and we may yet have until the spring.”
“And ye think that shall change anything?”
It did not really surprise her when Colin just smiled and then left. She had had very little to do with Colin, and she decided that her brother was very good at not answering questions. As carefully as she could, she eased her body down until she was flat on her back. He was right. There was still time, even if it might only be a fortnight. It was not enough time, however, for her to heal and then try to convince someone at Kengarvey to seek peace, even if only for themselves and their families. She knew she would try at least once more, but then she would start to try and find a way to save her own neck.
Ainslee whispered a curse as she started to slide along the wall. It had only been a week since her father had beaten her for the second time in a fortnight. Gaining the new injuries on top of ones that had not completely healed, had left her still feeling sore and weak. She could no longer stay in bed, however. No one was listening to her, except for the timid little maid who brought her her food and helped her when she was still too weak to get out of bed. Ainslee feared that, although the maid had agreed to go to Gabel or one of his men if the battle turned against the MacNairns, the girl was so scared of everyone and everything that she would probably get herself killed.
“Or try to make a treaty with the wrong people,” Ainslee muttered as she crept by the battered doors of the great hall.
It was after her last talk with Colin that she decided she had wasted enough time, and that she now had to consider her own safety. Her brother had actually spent some time with her, either talking or playing chess. At times she thought he was not her companion, but her guard, then she had silently apologized for that mistrust. If Colin was guarding her, it was only to insure that she did not do something foolish, such as trying to talk to Duggan MacNairn again.
The cold slapped her in the face as she eased out of the heavy doors and crept into the bailey. Ainslee shivered, and hugged her small bundle of supplies and clothes a little closer. It was not a long distance from the door of the keep to the gates of Kengarvey, but, as she stared across it, it looked like miles. The men on the walls were looking for an attack, not for one tiny woman to run away, but she too easily recalled the few who had tried to leave before her and their fates.
Keeping to the shadows and trying not to make a sound, she scurried to the shelter of the high walls next to the gates. Here there was a small thick door, banded in iron and bolted tightly. Once outside of it, Ainslee was sure she could disappear into the night, but it was not going to be easy to open it.
Tiptoeing past the sleeping gatekeeper huddled in his tiny lean-to, she set down her pack and inched the bar out of its slots, wincing at every tiny sound it made. She took a long time to lay the heavy wooden bar down on the frozen ground, breathing a hearty but silent sigh of relief when she was able to do so without making a sound. Collecting her precious supplies, she eased the door open and slipped out.
Nearly giddy with her success, she had to fight the urge to run straight across the open land and into the wood encircling Kengarvey. Her heart pounding, she stayed to the shadows as much as she could, and made her cautious walk to the wood. She had until morning to put as much distance b
etween herself and Kengarvey as possible and, the moment she reached the shelter of the woods, she walked with a surer and much faster pace.
There was barely an hour left before dawn when she finally gave up her fight against exhaustion and all the pain in her battered body. Finding what she hoped was a suitable hiding place amongst some thick hedges, she spread one blanket on the ground, used the second to wrap herself in, and laid down to get some rest.
A murmur of annoyance escaped Ainslee as a sound pulled her from her deep sleep. She then remembered where she was and, more importantly, why she was there, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Even the smallest of noises could easily give away her hiding place. Fighting to wake up, she lay as flat on her belly as she was able. A cold knot formed low in her-stomach when she saw the men peering around the small clearing. Her father’s men had found her.
When she espied Colin walking side by side with George, both of her brothers closely studying the ground as they tried to find some trail, Ainslee fought the deep feeling of betrayal that gripped her. Her brothers were her father’s pawns. They would do as Duggan MacNairn told them to, and even the risk to their own sister’s life would not make them hesitate. Ainslee realized that, except for Colin, she was not sure if her father’s men would kill her or just capture her. Duggan MacNairn treated all attempts to escape as a serious crime, as serious as betrayal.
Watching a frowning Colin search for her made her also feel a little guilty. It was clear that Colin would not kill her or allow their father to, but it could cost Colin dearly if she did escape. Their father would blame him for that error, and the punishment would be brutal. Colin might well be Duggan MacNairn’s favored son, but that would never stop the man from giving his son a painful beating.
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