Page 59 of Keepers of the Highland Crown
“When shall we have the kitchen lassies back?” a mewl-like reply sounded. Right outside their door!
Keithen turned into stone at the reply. “When Lord Keithen Shite MacMardan deems it. Move! There are many matters to discuss. I am hungry and long for more ale in the great lord’s hall. I would drink his wealthy arse dry if I could, the arrogant cock.”Well, so much for the prized bull.
“Have it! Most of the other warriors have already drunk themselves blind and sleep from a stupor, the lot of them—”
“Shut up and move it along.”
They remained in the flickering torchlight for a long while. A drip sound in the far distance behind them was the only sound accompaniment, at least for him. Nella leaned closer toward the door before she turned with a nod to him. Proceed. She hastily fetched some salted items for their impending journey. They bound up a newfound stairwell till an empty kitchen came into view. Most odd; the kitchens at Clan MacCade were always bustling. No wonder the guards were terse at their employer.
Once free out into the arcade’s archway, he paused. Shite. It was only late afternoon. Still so much light! He ducked into a shadow with Nella doing the same when movement by men-at-arms on the far guard tower caught their attention.They must travel in the shadows. He took a slight lead at her nod in silent agreement. He navigated them from one cover to the next. Starting with a hay wagon then ducking behind the pillars holding up the covered arcade till the fumes by sweat andhorse dung grew stronger than onions and rosemary from the kitchens.
The sight by Luss saddled while standing alongside Sir Brayden, Lord Kolson, Kameron, and two wide-eyed younger smiths holding their own mounts greeted them in the darkened aisleway. His shoulders lowered a notch.
They were all here. Now, how the hell did they get past the guard tower?
Chapter 31
Nella saw the young faces of the three lads newly introduced in haste on the secluded stable aisleway before she heard Callum declare, “I believe there is only one way to escape this bailey.” Her knight inclined his brow toward the watchtower. “Straight through the portcullis.”
Keithen made a grunt-type chuckle. Callum narrowed his gaze while tightening his grip on the foe. “You find jest in such a plan? Then once we are free from here and away to Perth you shall be laughing with glee, Benefactor.” Callum looked to her. “Forgive me, my lady, forthwith much of what is required shall fall upon your shoulders.”
Forgive him? There was nothing to forgive. This was a chance for redemption at her witless ways which had landed them all here! She raised her chin. “Pray tell.”
Her knight darted his gaze at the group gathered. “Lord MacMardan is taking leave for a twilight ride with his guard.” He nodded toward all those already gathered who wore surcoats and cloaks and helms with a spike covering their noses while they held reins ready in hand. “The Benefactor is seeking some time with a lady.” Callum with regret written in his eyes met her gaze. “The lord is so eager to show her the estate, and all he has conquered since his late sire’s death. In evening’s last light she rides tucked close behind him on his mount. Her arms snug about his waist while her hand is concealed in his cloak with adagger pointed near his waist. Positioned right between his ribs. Lord MacMardan, we cannot kill you brisk enough if you choose to warn the guards with a telling unspoken action. However, let me assure you a stab wound into the gut is a most excruciating and slow way to die. You may also consider it somehow possible to outwit my lady at her talents and try to utter a word in alarm at those we pass.” Callum yanked his arm tighter about the enemy who still had the dagger at his throat. “Allow me to state, there is nae test required to determine by the first wee hint of a word that my lady shall know if you are ill of intent. Her skills are keen, I promise you. The dagger shall finish what my arrow began, and you will not live to spout another word if you think to best her at the art of sound, understood?”
Silence. Callum pressed the dagger till Keithen’s skin pulled tighter beneath the blade preparing to split the flesh. “A simple nod shall suffice.” Keithen glared at her before the tiniest incline by his damp brow. “Excellent. Once we are mounted up, Sir Brayden and Lord Kolson take lead. I shall be upon my lady and the Benefactor’s right. Kameron, you are upon the left flank, hammer in hand hidden beneath your cloak to call upon if needed at your captor. You two lads” – Callum looked up the pair of young smiths – “are directly behind. I seek a tight formation around his lordship to ensure he does not dare venture a bold move such as kicking his stallion to gallop away. If he steps his charger anywhere but where we see fit, set him back into line. To those who look upon it shall appear we are in utmost care of ‘guarding’ his lordship. Are we all prepared to proceed?” Everyone nodded.
“Nella,” Callum advised her once she was seated behind Keithen with her palm tucked in the cloak holding the dagger ready, “if he twitches his jaw, stab him.”
Did she have it in her? Even after everything this ill Scotsman had done unto her and Callum. No. Her eyes metKameron’s. Gruff and burly and young, so young with a patchy bristled chin which had yet to fully fill in to a Scotsman’s beard. The lad would be free from this place, no matter the price. Did she have it in her? Aye! She re-met Callum’s stern stare and nodded.
“Sir Callum,” Holger hailed, then tossed one last helm at her knight who caught it mid-air.
“Do I wish to know how this came about?” Callum inquired, setting the helm atop his skull. If not for his eyes she would never guess it to be him. This escape may work.
“Let me simply say my raiding ancestors would be proud.” The Northman grinned wickedly before taking up his reigns.
Had she ever considered the thump by horse hooves moving across the cobblestones would grate her nerves so? No. The steady walk at appearing “out for a calm ride with the lord of the castle” was purely maddening. She rubbed her damp brow on Keithen’s woolen-cloaked shoulder, and the wool scratched her skin as much as the tension of this current circumstance.
Her breath caught when Keithen’s horse took a faulty step on a mismatched bailey cobblestone. The lord before her groused as the blade jabbed his tunic slightly.
“Do not stab me, my lady, thus the scales’ balance shall tip.”
“Silence,” she warned, then jabbed him again. His breath caught. Good. He got the warning.
The pair of guards at the gatehouse tower eyed their approach warily.
“Rather late for a ride, Lord MacMardan,” the paunchy-jawed guard called down at them. “All is well?”
Everyone halted when they stood at the giant portcullis which was closed. Through the lattice pattern she looked at the forest edges. How could something so close seem the width of an ocean in distance?
At Keithen’s lack in response the guard arched one side of his long single eyebrow. “My lord?”
A sweat bead traveled her neck as she jabbed Keithen with the dagger. Answer! “You dare question when your lord seeks to savor a ride, you peasant warrior!” Keithen bellowed, sounding his “arrogant” self. “Raise the gate at once, lest you suffer my full wroth.”
The guard’s face turned red as the trim on his surcoat. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lord.” The guard’s words twitched in a terse way, but he waved at the gatehouse. Silence met the air with the exception of the guards who ran to do the bidding.
Perfect time for a full chronicle. The sweat droplet on her neck which had popped up hit her shoulder as she tilted her head.
