Page 107 of The Guardian
“We must go, but the question is how,” Alex said from his stool across the tiny room. “I hate to admit it, lads, but we won’t strike fear in the hearts of our enemies in our present condition.”
Ian looked them over. Duncan and Alex had two good legs between them and one good sword arm, and it was doubtful Connor could stand at all.
“Alex is right. If Hugh sees ye coming looking like this, he’ll finish ye off before we make it into the castle,” Ian said. “We need to get the three of ye inside without anyone seeing ye.
“We have two things in our favor,” he continued. “First, Hugh isn’t expecting ye because he thinks you’re dead.”
“And the second,” Sìleas said, “is that it’s the eve of Samhain, so we can dress ye in disguises.”
Half the clan would be wearing costumes—whether to imitate the dead or ward them off, Ian was never sure.
“We can paint our faces black,” Duncan suggested. “A lot of the young men do that.”
“If I arrive with three men of your size and hair color—especially yours, Duncan—I fear blackened faces won’t be enough to prevent someone from guessing who ye are.”
Teàrlag, who had been bent over something boiling in the iron pot over her fire, turned and spoke for the first time. “Ilysa, I haven’t yet given away the clothes of the last person we helped lay out. They should do, aye?”
“My braw brother won’t like it,” Ilysa said, a slow smile spreading over her face. “But I believe we’ll get ye into the castle without anyone recognizing ye.”
Ian steered Shaggy’s fine little galley around the point. Luckily, there was a stiff breeze so he didn’t have to row.
“Ye look fetching,” Alex said, choking back a laugh as Duncan held his bonnet against the wind. “I fear it will be hard keeping the men at a distance.”
Duncan was wearing the clothes of a well-known gossip who had died a few weeks earlier and who, fortunately, had been enormous. Duncan and Alex had drawn straws for the privilege.
“Any man that touches me will find himself on his arse,” Duncan said with a sour look.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I think ye will be safe from untoward advances,” Ian said. “But just in case, I hope ye have a dirk hidden beneath your skirts.”
“Hmmph.” Duncan snorted and glared at the castle.
Alex put on one of the masks Teàrlag had fashioned from scrap cloth to cover Connor’s and Alex’s bruised faces. “I hate to hide my pretty face, when all the lasses of the clan will be at the gathering.”
Connor was lying in the bottom of the boat, fast asleep. Even though Ian had carried him most of the way, the trip down to the boat from the cottage had sapped what little strength he had.
“Best get him up now,” Ian said.
Duncan and Alex helped Connor sit up, and Sìleas put on his mask for him.
Ian didn’t need to hide his own identity, since people would expect him to be at the gathering. All the same, he kept his cap low over his eyes as he guided the boat up to the castle’s sea entrance. Earlier, there would have been a line of boats waiting, but the afternoon light was gone, and evening had settled in. The torches inside the sea gate shone on the boat ahead of them, the only other latecomer.
Ilysa had returned to the castle earlier by the road, since it might raise alarms if she was missing when it was time to set out the food for the gathering.
The water sloshed between the boat and the sea steps as one of the guards grabbed the coiled rope from the front of their boat and tied it to an iron peg. This was the most dangerous moment. Ian was prepared to reach for his claymore and cut the guards down if he had to.
The other guard was a small wiry fellow, who gamely offered his hand to Duncan. “Big lass, aren’t ye now?”
Duncan looked as if he was going to squeeze the life out of the guard rather than take his hand. Ach, this was going to be trouble. Ian tensed as the guard turned his head, letting his gaze rove over each of them in turn. When his eyes met Ian’s, his face broke into a wide grin that showed several missing teeth.
“It’s me, Tait,” the man said in a low voice. “Ilysa sent me down to help at the sea gate.”
In the light from the torches behind the guard, Ian could just make out the features of Tait, the man who hated Hugh for violating his sister.
“I can handle this last boat and lock the sea gate,” Tait called to the other guard. “Ye don’t want to miss the bonfire, now do ye?”
This time when Tait offered his hand, Duncan took it. The boat dipped as Duncan stepped on the side of the boat then rose again when he stepped off.
“Glad to see ye here, lads,” Tait said as soon as the other guard disappeared up the stairs. “That damned Hugh Dubh has been parading around the castle all day like a damned rooster.”
