Song of a Highlander (Arch Through Time, #11)

by Baker, Katy

  “Very well,” he said tightly. “But ye must follow my instructions.”

  She gave a lopsided smile. Oh, how he loved that smile. “When do I ever do anything else?”

  He snorted. Kicking the horse into motion, they trotted towards the enemy camp.

  JESS HOPED HER FEAR wasn’t showing. As they drew closer to the rows of tents, she began to wonder whether this had been a good idea after all. The men milling about had the look of hardened warriors and did not appear friendly. She swallowed. What had she been thinking?

  But as they entered the camp she saw that there were, in fact, plenty of women around. She saw a group crouched by the river washing clothes. Others were sitting at campfires cooking. There were even a few children.

  “Stop!”

  A group of warriors stepped into their path. They wore boiled leather armor and one sported a maroon cloak with an insignia pinned at the shoulder. It was this one who’d spoken.

  Ramsay pulled the horse up. “Aye?”

  “Yer name and yer purpose here.”

  Ramsay snorted. “I would have thought that was obvious. I’m answering Laird MacGregor’s call to muster.”

  The man looked him up and down, taking in his sword and the MacAuley plaid. “Ye dinna wear the MacGregor colors.”

  “Nay, not all of us have the coin to choose. Some of us have to make do with what we can afford.”

  The man frowned. “Yer name.”

  “Alistair MacGregor,” Ramsay lied smoothly. “Billeted to Craghaven. I would have been here sooner, but I had some duties to take care of with my new wife first—if ye get my meaning.” He nodded at Jess and gave a leering grin.

  Jess fought down the embarrassment that threatened to redden her cheeks as the man’s gaze flicked to her. A ghost of a smile played across his features before he looked back at Ramsay.

  “Craghaven, ye say? We havenae had any in from that district yet. What’s the delay?”

  Ramsay shrugged. “The spring planting’s not yet finished.”

  The man nodded. “Ye have the look of a fighter to me. Mayhap ye can be of some use. See the quartermaster. He’ll see that ye and yer wife are housed.”

  He waved them away. Ramsay ducked his head in respect and then rode into camp. The walls of Dun Halas rose above, gray and forbidding. Its battlements looked like broken teeth against the sky and there was only one gate that led in and out and this was heavily guarded. The fortress seemed ancient, as though it had been carved out of the very bedrock.

  “Impressive isnae it,” Ramsay said, seeing her staring. “Dun Halas hasnae ever fallen to an enemy. They say it is impregnable. Even cannon fire canna make an impression on those walls.”

  “Artair has chosen a good place to hole up,” she observed.

  “Aye,” Ramsay breathed, gazing up at Dun Halas. “He has.”

  They dismounted then tied Bluebell up and were directed to a small tent. Inside the tent there was nothing but a single sleeping mat laid out on the bare earth. Jess wished she was back at the inn in Arndale, or even better, back at Aida and Alan’s croft. She suspected it would be a rough night.

  Ramsay was gazing around at the camp. Armed men walked everywhere, all wearing the MacGregor plaid and carrying a weapon of some sort.

  Ramsay turned to her abruptly and yanked his dagger out of his belt, flipped it and held it out to her hilt-first. Jess gingerly reached out and took it.

  “Just in case.”

  “Ye there!” a voice bellowed suddenly. A man wearing the insignia of a sergeant on the shoulder of his plaid walked up to them. “Just arrived have ye? Well, ye can earn yer damned keep. With me. Sentry duty. Now.”

  He walked off, several other men following behind. When Ramsay didn’t move the man turned back to him, one hand going to the hilt of his sword.

  “Come on, man!” he growled. “I willnae ask ye again.”

  Ramsay scowled, and a vein throbbed in his temple. She could see he was struggling to keep his temper.

  “Go on,” she whispered. “Or you’ll blow our cover. Do you want us to end up in a dungeon?”

  He nodded tightly. “Stay inside. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He spun on his heel and marched off with the MacGregor warriors. Jess watched him go, and he was soon lost in the crowd. She glanced down at the dagger resting in her hand. Ramsay expected her to use this to defend herself? She’d never so much as had a fist-fight! She licked her lips, looking around nervously. A tight knot of fear formed in her stomach as the realization started to sink in. This was no game. She was deep into hostile territory.

  And she was alone.

  RAMSAY RESISTED THE urge to look back. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave her. As it was, he could barely think for fear for Jess running through his veins like bile. If anything should happen to her...

  It willnae, he told himself, hoping it was true.

  “Dinna worry,” a man said next to him. “She’ll be waiting when ye get back.”

  He turned his head to find a blond man walking beside him.

  “What?”

  “Yer lass. She’s a mighty fine one. I canna blame ye for preferring her company to ours. Who wants sentry duty when ye have a woman like that waiting for ye?”

  Ramsay forced the scowl from his face. “Aye,” he muttered. “Sentry duty? What are we guarding?”

  The man nodded up ahead. They were approaching the eastern side of the castle, on the opposite side to the loch. The camp didn’t stretch this far and on this side there was an open landscape of rough plain and stands of scrubby trees. The towering walls of Dun Halas reared above them.

  “Right, ye lazy blaggards!” yelled the sergeant, bringing them all to a standstill. “Ye are to patrol this side of the castle. Anything moves out on the plain I want to know about it. I find any of ye drinking on the job and ye’ll have me to answer to!”

  The sergeant walked off and the five men accompanying Ramsay began moving off to begin a circuit of the walls, grumbling to each other.

  Ramsay gritted his teeth as he moved to keep up with them. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  JESS SAT IN THE TENT, jumping at every sound. An approaching footstep, hoof beats nearby, raucous laughing from a tent next door. Each time, she grabbed the dagger and held it out, expecting some danger to come bursting through the tent flap. It didn’t. But the constant state of agitation left her wrung out and restless.

  This is no good, she thought. I can’t just sit here and wait until Ramsay comes back.

  She had no idea how long he’d be gone. And besides, they’d come here to gather information, hadn’t they? She wasn’t going to find that huddled in a tent.

  Decision made, she scrambled up and ducked outside. The afternoon was wearing on and the sun was starting to sink towards the horizon. She looked around and spotted a young woman with long black hair weaving her way between the tents carrying an armload of washing.

  As Jess watched, the woman tripped on a rope and her washing tumbled to the ground. Cursing, she knelt to gather it up. Jess seized her chance.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” she said, crouching to help collect it.

  “My thanks,” the woman said with a smile.

  She seemed to be around the same age as Jess and wore a much-patched but clean dress and had her hair tied back in a long plait.

  “Can I help you carry it to the river?” Jess asked.

  “Would ye? I would be much obliged. I’m Mary.”

  Jess smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jessica. My friends call me Jess.”

  Mary cocked her head. “Ye have a strange accent. I dinna recognize it. Where do ye hail from?”

  Jess thought quickly. “I’m English. From London.” She hoped Mary had never heard a London accent before and therefore wouldn’t be able to spot her lie.

  “My, ye are a long way from home!” Mary exclaimed. “What brings an English woman to the camp of Benneit MacGregor?”

  “M
y husband,” Jess replied. “He’s one of the laird’s warriors.”

  Mary smiled sympathetically. “Aye. Mine too. The men go off to battle without a thought for those of us left behind.”

  Mary led Jess through the press of tents and down to the shore of the loch. A cold wind blew off the water, sending waves lapping against the shore and goose bumps riding up Jess’s skin. Several other women were already down at the water’s edge beating clothes on rocks. Mary greeted them all by name and introduced Jess. She placed her pile of washing on a clean rock, picked a tunic off the top and began washing it, copying what the other women were doing. All the while, she listened to their gossip, hoping to learn something useful.

  “She’s not his wife!” said a woman called Sarah, obviously carrying on an earlier conversation. “No matter what he claims! I’ve met the captain’s wife, and she’s well past forty, not that young filly he’s brought with him to wash his drawers!”

  “Then who is she?” asked a woman called Tansy.

  “His mistress, of course!” Sarah replied. “Could there be a more perfect excuse for leaving the wife at home than riding off to war? And nobody will gainsay him, even if they do realize she’s his mistress. It makes a man fight better when he has a warm bed and a soft body to come back to.”

  They all laughed and Jess found herself smiling. Despite the circumstances these women obviously shared an easy camaraderie. They could have been friends gossiping in any time and place.

  “What about ye, Jess?” Sarah asked suddenly. “Were ye as stupid as the rest of us by following yer man to war?”

  They all looked at her and Jess felt suddenly flustered. “I...er...yes, that’s right.”

  “And followed him further than most,” Mary added. “All the way from London.”

  There was a chorus of oohs and aahs to this news.

  “Canna say I blame ye,” said Tansy. “That red-head is yer husband isnae he? I saw ye ride in today.”

  “Him?” Sarah said, implying they’d already noticed and been discussing Ramsay. “He’s yer husband? My, but he’s a looker isnae he? Puts my Donald to shame, bless him. I bet he’s good between the sheets as well!”

  Jess felt her cheeks burning. She was sure she must have turned as red as a beetroot. “I...um...I...”

  “Leave her be!” Mary scolded. “Canna ye see ye are embarrassing her?”

  There was a round of good-natured chuckling and to Jess’s immense relief, they moved onto other topics.

  Jess soon realized it had been a shrewd decision to fall in with these women. They gossiped endlessly. Before long she knew which of the laird’s officers were being unfaithful to their wives, which of the warriors had a reputation for being drunken thugs and were best avoided, and several different ways to sneak extra rations from under the quartermaster’s nose.

  However, they knew very little about the reason for Benneit MacGregor calling his warriors to muster but as their husbands owed allegiance to the MacGregor laird, they’d come at his call without asking questions.

  “He’s going after MacSual lands,” Sarah said. “Ye mark my words. There’s been talk of trouble along the border with the MacSual ever since the old laird died.”

  “What’s to gain from that?” Tansy answered. “The MacSuals might be a weak clan but they have allies who aren’t. What if the Murrays or the MacAuleys become involved? The laird doesnae have the forces to stand up to them and I for one dinna want my David involved in any such thing. Nay, the laird would do best to let us all go home and tend to our fields.”

  Sarah snorted. “There’s nay chance of that! Havenae ye heard? The laird reckons he’s got a new weapon, one that will show the other clans his might. I heard one of the captains bragging about how it would bring them a great victory. As if any victory can be bought with aught but blood!”

  The others shook their heads and tutted at the stupidity of men. What would these women do when the laird’s army rode out? Jess wondered. Would they return to their crofts and their farms? Or would they wait here, hoping against hope that their men would come back to them?

  “They say it’s that newcomer what’s brought the weapon,” said Mary. “I saw him ride in yesterday. Wearing gold round his neck and jewels on his fingers. I’ve never seen such wealth. I wonder who he is?”

  Jess’s ears pricked at this. That description could only match Artair Campbell. She cleared her throat. “I heard he’s come to make some sort of alliance with the laird,” she ventured. “But I didn’t hear what that alliance is.”

  “My David says the newcomer is searching for something on MacGregor land,” Tansy said. “Went out late last night, well after dark, with the laird himself riding with him. They were gone for hours apparently and only returned just before dawn. I dinna reckon they found what they were after.”

  “Pah!” said Sarah. “Ye shouldnae listen to men’s gossip, Tansy. Everyone knows they are full of naught but wind. My Donald was on guard duty on the gate last night and he said not a soul left during the night and I think he would have noticed if the laird himself came riding out!”

  “That’s because they dinna leave by the gate!” Tansy retorted. “By all accounts this newcomer doesnae want to be seen. Whatever he’s doing, he wants it to be a secret.”

  Mary shook her head. “Ye canna trust a man like that.”

  Jess nodded her agreement along with the others but her thoughts were racing. Artair was searching for something on MacGregor lands? And he was leaving the castle at night to do it?

  “Doesnae matter what alliances the laird seeks,” Tansy said. “My David reckons the Woodsmen will attack any day now and they’re trained warriors, every one of them. Not farmers and crofters armed with home-made spears and kitchen knives! If they attack, it will go badly for our men.”

  “Dinna talk like that!” Sarah replied. “We have to trust that the laird knows what he’s doing. The Woodsmen wouldnae dare attack a camp this size.”

  This was the second time Jess had heard the Woodsmen mentioned. Ramsay had seemed a little edgy when she’d mentioned them—and that man on the road had mistaken Ramsay for one of them. Hmm. Another of Ramsay’s secrets?

  “Who are the Woodsmen?” she asked innocently.

  Sarah rolled her eyes as if wondering where Jess had been all this time. “A band of warriors that’s been harrying Laird MacGregor’s forces although nobody knows who they really are. They’re called the Woodsmen because they melt into the forests as soon as the laird goes after them. Some reckon they’re just bandits but there are rumors that they’re an elite force sent by some laird in the west who isnae too keen on the MacGregor expanding his territory.”

  Silence fell at her words and the women returned to their washing with pensive expressions on their faces. They soon began chatting again, however, but their talk turned to more mundane things until the washing was finally finished. Jess straightened, stretching out her aching back. Her hands were red with cold and she would probably have sore shoulders in the morning but it was worth it for the information she’d gleaned.

  She hefted a pile of Mary’s washing and joined the other women as they began making their way back to camp. The sun had sunk below the horizon and dark was falling. Campfires were flaring into life amidst the tents like fireflies. The smell of roasting meat wafted on the air, making Jess’s stomach growl.

  Her thoughts turned to Ramsay and the lewd comments the women had made. What would Ramsay be like in bed? Heat flushed into her cheeks at the thought.

  Don’t even think about it, she told herself, as she made her way back to the tent she shared with the man in question.

  RAMSAY HAD FORGOTTEN just how much he hated sentry duty. As the son of the laird, he’d been expected to take his turn with the garrison at Dun Ringill and that had included long stints guarding the castle. Oh, how he’d hated it. He’d much preferred being out in the wilds tracking with his uncle Finlay, using his skills and stealth to find criminals, track game and find lost trav
elers.

  Now, as he paced yet another circuit of Dun Halas, he wished he was back out in the wilderness once more. They’d been here all afternoon, walking the rounds. They’d seen no evidence of any enemies approaching to the east and nothing had moved out on the plain except for a herd of deer.

  All afternoon he’d made conversation with his comrades, trying to glean some information but they were an unimaginative and uninquisitive bunch and knew little more than Ramsay himself. It was rumored that Benneit MacGregor was planning an assault against Laird MacSual but nobody seemed to quite know when that would happen or where it would take place.

  “Ye cheating bastard!” someone shouted.

  Ramsay turned. The other members of his company had taken the opportunity to hunker down next to a small, dusty door set in the castle walls. It was innocuous, nothing more than a sally port, but the angle of the return wall here meant it wasn’t visible from the battlements above—the perfect excuse for the men to take a break whilst nobody higher in the chain of command could see them. They’d immediately begun playing dice.

  Ronald, a big-bellied veteran with straggles of gray hair clinging to his otherwise bald head, was glaring at Archibald, one of the younger lads.

  Archibald looked outraged. “I am not!”

  “I may be getting on a bit but I’m not blind yet, ye young pup!” He slammed the dice cup down so hard that it spilled over and the dice tumbled over the ground. Two of them fetched up against the wooden door.

  “Now look what ye’ve done, ye stupid old fool!” snapped Archibald. “I’ll have an apology for that accusation!”

  “Ye’ll have naught of the sort!” Ronald turned to his fellows who were watching with bored amusement. “Ye saw what he did didnae ye? He’s a bloody cheat!”

  With a sigh, Ramsay bent to pick up the dice, reaching out to steady himself on the door.

  “Dinna touch that!” cried Archibald suddenly.