by Barbara Bard
Scorn filled Fiona’s voice. “Then she shall, Greer. And she be wi’ well rid o’ ye.”
He flinched at the sound of the door slamming behind her. He could not, however, force himself to take back his brutal words. Knowing them for being selfish, prideful, and stupid, he cursed loud and long, both at himself as well as Myra and the world in general.
Skulking in his rooms for the entire day, he occasionally stared out the window at the people below. True to Fiona’s word, in the bailey, clansmen surrounded the wenches that accompanied Myra on her quest for both vengeance and justice. Voices and laughter drifted up to his ears, and he clenched his fists. “She should apologize for disobeying me,” he muttered, pacing away from the sight. “I wi’ be laird someday. I be master here.”
Whether Myra joined the throngs below, he could not tell. Yet, knowing Myra, she would not be. No doubt, she either rode her horse across the moors, or sat in her chambers as much as he did. The knowledge that she was not down there flirting with the warriors, encouraging their attention, did not bring him much comfort, however. Not hungry, and despite his empty stomach, he poured himself a cup of wine.
By dusk, and when Jared and Gavin came searching for him, Greer sat in his chair by the window, staring moodily out. He glanced up as they entered, then went back to gazing over the slowly darkening moors. His head swam gently from the effects of the wine, but he continued to drink steadily.
“What are ye doing in here?” Jared asked, striding toward him and sitting in a nearby chair.
Gavin picked up the nearly empty wineskin and shook it. His brow rose. “I be guessing he be drowning his sorrows.”
Greer eyed him sourly. “They be great swimmers.”
“Ach, lad,” Jared said cheerfully. “Ye hae a sweet, brave lass waiting fer ye. She be pining fer yer company.”
“And just how would ye ken that? Ye been goin’ behind me back as she did?”
Jared’s smile slowly faded, his eyes hardened dangerously. “Ye be questioning me honor now?” He rose to loom over Greer.
“Hae ye been seducin’ Myra, Jared?” Greer stood up, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Ye bastard,” Jared snarled.
Gavin stepped between them, his hands on both their chests even as they continued to scowl at one another. “Ye be friends fer tae long tae quarrel like this. Greer, ye ken Jared would ne’er mess wi’ yer lass. Jared, he be drunk, he dinnae ken what he is saying.”
Greer shunted his eyes away, and leaned both hands on the window sill. “I dae wrong ye, Jared,” he said his tone low. “I dinnae ken what I am doin’.”
Hearing a quiet step on the stone floor, he felt Jared’s hard grip on his shoulder, but he didn’t look around.
“She loves ye, lad,” Jared said, his voice quiet. “I saw the pain in her eyes when ye lashed out this morning. Ye did hurt her sore.”
“She should nae hae done what she did, Jared.”
“And hae ye ne’er done something rash, foolhardy? I seem tae recall several.”
“But I be a man, a warrior. She be but a lass.”
“That makes nae sense, Greer,” Jared replied, giving Greer’s shoulder a hard shove, garnering his swift scowl. “Ye taught her tae fight yerself. We all did. What makes a warrior if nae courage in battle? Myra done showed that.”
Unable to express the anger and resentment he felt toward Myra for her headstrong, foolish, attempt to trap and kill Primshire, Greer merely shook his head. “Ye be right,” he admitted, “and ye be wrong. I dinnae ken what tae think o’ all this. I cannae keep her safe if she be runnin’ all o’er creation tryin’ tae kill Sassenach earls.”
“Yer pride be hurt,” Gavin said from behind him. “That pain be worse than a dagger thrust. But ye gotta get o’er it, and forgive her.”
“I cannae,” Greer whispered, his head bowed.
***
Whether by her intentions or his own, or perhaps a combination of the two, Greer saw little of Myra over the next few days. He spent his time away from the castle, riding patrols over the MacEilish lands, inspecting the village fortifications, suspecting the Earl of Primshire was not dead as everyone hoped, and would return with new deviltry to plague them with. On occasion, he did observe Myra riding out with Idina at her side and a handful of clansmen to guard her.
Though he missed her terribly, his heart aching, his stubborn Scottish nature refused to permit him to apologize to her, and beg Myra’s forgiveness. “I cannae help it,” he told Jared as they rode. “I just cannae let this gae.”
“Ye should,” Jared advised. “Afore it eats ye up inside.”
And it was eating him up inside, Greer recognized. He still could not get past his anger. He loved Myra more than his own life, saw her bearing his children, ruling the MacEilish clan at his side, growing old together on the Scottish moors. Unless he was willing to put his anger in the past, that vision could never be.
“I ken what would cheer ye up,” Jared said, catching Greer’s eye. “Let us raid the Primshire stock this night. Wi’ the Earl possibly wounded, his guard be doon.”
Greer felt an almost unfamiliar grin surface. “Ye be right, me auld lad. That would cheer me up.”
As he, Jared and Gavin were not enough for such a raid, Greer kicked his bay into a ground-eating lope back to the castle to recruit a few more clansmen to ride with them. Half-hoping, half-fearing to see Myra in the bailey, Greer gazed around as he rode into it, but saw only the normal activity of servants going about their business, chickens scratching in the straw, a blacksmith shoeing a horse. He did find Kerr inside, however.
Dismounting, he led his horse to where Kerr stood with Leith, waiting for him. “We be riding tae the Primshire lands, Da,” he said. “Raid his cattle and horses.”
Greer suspected Kerr had been in nearly a foul a mood as he was since Myra returned from her attempt to kill Primshire, but Kerr now chuckled. “I think the time be ripe tae steal his herds, lad. Ye gae tonight?”
“Aye. We need a few lads tae ride wi’ us.”
“Good. When ye return with them, hide them tae the northeast behind the tall hills. Primshire ne’er find them there.”
“If he e’en be able tae chase us doon,” Greer replied, understanding that if their raid was successful, much of it was due to Myra. If Primshire was in no condition to organize a pursuit of them, they gained a great deal in valuable cattle and horses.
“Gae wi’ God, lad.”
The afternoon had grown late when Greer, Jared and Gavin rode out with ten clansmen behind them. Recalling the hills where he could watch the activity at the Primshire castle, Greer hoped to arrive there just before dark fell. He knew the chances of seeing Primshire himself were slim, he couldn’t help but wonder how badly Myra hurt him that night.
Hours later, he lay on his belly between Gavin and Jared, the sun setting slowly in the west. The sky above was clear of clouds, thus enabling them to see fairly well by the light of the moon once full darkness arrived. “There,” Greer said, pointing to the southwest and at the large herd of cattle grazing peacefully. “He hae few guards oan them.”
“I dinnae see any horses wi’ them.” Jared gazed toward the east, then gestured. “There be his horse herd.”
“Aye.” Greer stroked his scarred cheek as he pondered. “We must split up if we wish tae take both.”
“Look there,” Gavin added, directing their attention to a split between two hills north of the horses. “What are they? Twenty odd horses? Four lads can round them up, drive them north through that wedge a’tween the hills.”
“And be gone wi’ them,” Greer replied, peering toward the north. “We can meet up near the rock spires aboot a mile past. The rest o’ us wi’ circle the cattle, and run them straight past here. What do ye think?”
Jared grinned. “Them watching the herds be lads at best, armed wi’ rocks tae scare wolves. They wi’ ne’er put up a fight.”
“Right then. Let’s wait till dark.” Greer turned, keep
ing his body low to the ground and slithered his way back down the hill.
An hour later, Jared and three warriors rode eastward toward the Primshire horse herd, the newly risen moon and the stars offering plenty of light to see by. Greer, Gavin and the remaining seven clansmen rode at a walk out of the hills and to the flatter lands below. Once they approached the herd of about forty cattle, they split up, Gavin leading three men to the east while Greer led the rest westward.
With the Primshire castle and men-at-arms much closer now, Greer kept a sharp watch for any signs they had been discovered. Few lights glowed in the windows, and the land lay quiet save for the movement of the cows as they grazed, the scrunch of their hooves on the grass. Though he couldn’t see Gavin, he pursed his lips and gave a soft hoot of an owl – the signal that he was in place.
He was immediately answered by the cry of a nighthawk, indicating Gavin heard him and was also in position. With noiseless gestures, Greer ordered his men to spread out across the herd. As was the plan, Greer gave them ten minutes to ride along the southern edges of the cattle, all the while watching and listening for the Primshire guards to sound an alert.
None did. After then ten minutes was up, Greer nudged his horse amid the cattle, waving a cloth, getting them on their feet and moving north at a quiet walk. He saw in the distance his men doing the same, urging the cows along at a sedate pace, and leaving the mad dash for when the theft was discovered. To his surprise and delight, the alarm at the castle wasn’t raised until he had the cattle climbing into the hills, at least a mile away.
“We gae,” Geer shouted. “Run them now!”
With whoops and sharp cries, Greer and the clansmen charged at the herd, spooking them, forcing the cattle to run in a tight group. A swift glance behind him as they topped the hills showed torches flaring in the distance as Primshire’s men-at-arms saddled their horses. He grinned. He had an excellent head start.
“Oan, lads,” he yelled. “Fer the border!”
Wild screams and yells kept the herd charging north. Greer listened for the hollering of Jared and his men, and heard their whoops as they, too, ran hard north with the stolen horses. The two racing herds met, and mingled at the tall hills with the spires, Greer laughing as Jared joined him.
“That were almost tae easy,” Jared called to him as they galloped, waving their cloths to keep the herds running.
“Aye,” Greer agreed, still glancing back over his shoulder as they rode. “But they be after us now, and they can gallop faster than we.”
“Me and a few lads wi’ teach them better manners,” Jared replied. “Goan, keep them going.”
“Be careful,” Greer called as Jared reined his horse around, shouting for three men to join him.
As they had planned, Jared and the clansmen would lie in wait for the Primshire men-at-arms to ride into an ambush set for them. With their bows, they could easily shoot the soldiers from their saddles, or kill the horses they rode. The strategy had worked time and again on raids such as this one, and once the Sassenach realized they were under attack from an unseen foe, they usually turned and fled.
Again, as they had planned ahead of time, Greer would slow the frantic pace at the border, and wait for Jared and his men. With the distance and the hills between them, he could not heard the battle behind him over the thunder of hooves, and hoped Jared’s ambush worked. Topping another low lying hill, Greer reined in for a moment to gaze back into the darkness.
Like tiny stars come to earth, the torches carried by the Sassenach soldiers in their pursuit of the raiders appeared to be headed south, not north. With an evil grin, Greer kicked his horse and galloped on, swiftly catching up to the herds. “We wait at the border fer Jared and the others,” he yelled to Gavin.
“It nae be far,” Gavin shouted back.
They crossed the invisible lines between Scotland and England about twenty minutes later. Greer and his men reined in their sweating, panting horses, the herds slowing with them in a shallow valley as they ceased their wild yells and whoops. Walking their mounts to cool them slowly, Greer listened for the approach of hooves. “They should’nae be far behind,” he said to Gavin.
“Nay,” he said, turning his horse around to stare into the night. “There they be.”
Sure enough, four horses cantered down the side of the hill, but only three riders showed up against the moon’s illumination. Alarm raced through Greer. “Something be wrong,” he muttered, kicking his mount toward the approaching riders.
He was not wrong. Jared rode slumped in his saddle, his horse’s reins in the hand of a warrior. “He took an arrow, laird,” the clansman told him. “The Sassenach fired off shots afore they fled sooth.”
Chapter 28
Dismounting, Greer gazed up as Jared lifted his head, his teeth gleaming in a grin. “I got an arrow in me thigh,” he said, his voice thick with pain.
Greer examined the arrow sticking from Jared’s leg, his lienes dark with blood. He clicked his tongue. “I got tae yank it oot, lad,” he said, his voice quiet, “bind ye tae slow the bleedin’.”
“Aye.” Jared nodded. “Dae it.”
To Gavin, still aboard his horse, Greer said, “I need something tae bind it wi’.”
Turning in his saddle, Gavin fumbled in his saddlebags as Greer put his hand on the arrow. Remembering the hot fire of agony when Sondra pulled the barb from his shoulder, he knew the pain he would be causing his friend. He gazed up at Jared, feeling both afraid and sympathetic. “Ye be ready now?”
Jared bared his teeth again. “Just dae it, ye –”
Greer wrenched the wooden shaft from Jared’s leg on a gush of blood. Jared’s choked off scream filled the night, and he collapsed onto his horse’s neck, breathing hard. Taking the cloth Gavin held out to him, Greer padded the wound, then wrapped Jared’s leg tightly. “Jared, lad?”
Slowly, Jared raised himself up. “Aye,” he muttered. “That were bad.”
“I be sorry I hae tae hurt ye. We hae to ride now. Ye wi’ hae tae endure it fer a time till we get back tae the castle.”
“Dinnae worry aboot me.”
Wiping his blood-stained hands as best he could on the grass, Greer remounted. “Let’s get these animals home,” he ordered. “Gavin, get them moving.”
He set a fast pace away from the border, the moon floated serenely over their heads as his men herded the horses and cattle north. He kept a close watch on Jared as they rode, observing the sheen of sweat filming Jared’s face and neck, plastering his hair to his head.
“Quit yer watching o’er me,” Jared snapped, cross, “I be fine.”
Greer chuckled. “If ye be cranky, I expect ye are. I wi’ still worry o’er ye till we get ye home.”
Hours passed, and they drew closer to the castle. Greer gestured for a clansman to ride closer to him. “Ye ken the healer Sondra?” he asked. “In the village?”
“Aye, laird.”
“Fetch her tae the castle. We need her skills.”
The warrior saluted him, and reined his horse east, galloping over the moors and vanishing into the dark. Greer called out to the rest of his men. “Gavin and me be takin’ Jared tae the castle. Ye run the herd tae the northwest pastures behind the hills. Stay wi’ them and guard them, I wi’ send ye supplies to keep ye.”
“Aye, laird,” came the replies from the nine men.
Splitting away from the herds, still being driven north, Greer and Gavin rode to each side of Jared toward the black hulk of the castle. Though it was past midnight, torches flared in the bailey. Shouting out the password to the guards on the ramparts, Greer cantered his weary horse across the meadows, glad to see Kerr and Leith waiting for them in the bailey.
“Were ye successful, lad?” Kerr asked as they rode up.
“Aye,” Greer replied, dismounting. “But Jared be shot. I sent fer Sondra the healer.”
He and Gavin helped Jared down, who groaned through his teeth, as Kerr trotted closer to help while Leith called for grooms and s
ervants. With his arms over each of their shoulders, Greer and Gavin half-carried Jared, slowly walking him into the keep. “He lost tae much blood, Da,” Greer said.
“We can get him tae his room,” Kerr replied. “Sondra wi’ get him better, lad. She be quite skilled.”
Jared’s chamber was not far from Greer’s on the third floor of the keep, but it was hard work getting Jared up the stairs. Both Greer and Gavin were breathing hard, and Jared panted in ragged gasps for breath. Glancing up as they struggled, Greer saw Myra standing above them watching. His heart jolted in his chest.
“What happened?” she asked, closing the neck of her loose robe at her throat.
“Shot in the leg,” he replied, not quite knowing how to talk to her, of if he should. Did he want to? Yes, he did, and he felt oddly happy she was there. “We raided Primshire’s horses and cattle this night.”
