A Sword Upon The Rose (27 page)

He meant it, she thought, her heart swelling, but there was no predicting the revenge Bruce would wish to take upon any member of the Comyn family. Alana was about to walk with him from the hall when she heard racing footsteps. There was no mistaking the urgency in the sound.

Angus rushed inside, so intent that he did not close the front door. “We have just received this!” He handed Iain a sealed missive.

Iain broke the royal seal and unrolled the parchment. He read it quickly, his expression becoming troubled. Then he looked grimly at Alana.

Her heart turned over with alarm. “What is it?”

He glanced past her at her sisters. “Sir Alexander has been wounded.”

Alana froze. The image from her vision, of her father as a bloody corpse, filled her mind. She fought to see Iain instead. “Oh, God.” She realized she had seized his arm.

“He is alive, Alana, but he has been badly wounded, and he escaped Balvenie. He is at Elgin now.”

Alana began to shake.

Her sisters ran up to them. “How badly?” Alice cried. “How badly is he hurt?”

Iain hesitated, his gaze on Alana. “He is dying,” he said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

M
ARGARET
WAS
STARTING
to cry, and Alice held her, her own eyes red. Alana felt the same terrible grief, or perhaps she felt even worse, for she knew that Sir Alexander would die. Her visions always came true, and now this one would, as well. She glanced at Godfrey. He was pale. But then, he knew about her vision of her father’s death, too.

Suddenly Joan rushed into the hall with Eleanor. “What is happening? Why is Margaret crying? Who has come?”

Iain turned toward her. “I am sorry, Lady Joan, but Sir Alexander has been mortally wounded.”

Joan cried out, her knees buckling, her face draining of all color. Alice left Margaret, rushing to her mother and putting her arm around her. “No,” Joan whispered. “No.”

Alana gazed at Joan and her daughters and felt a terrible pain. They loved Sir Alexander—far more than she, an abandoned child, ever could.

Godfrey came over and steadied her. Alana was grateful, but she saw that Iain was not. His eyes were wide and hard as he stared at them.

Alice suddenly turned to Iain. “We must go to him!”

Iain was forbidding as he spoke. “I am leading the march on Elgin, Lady Alice. We will besiege it and this time, it will fall. It is not safe fer ye to go there.”

“I don’t care!” she cried. Tears began. She seized his arm. “I must see my father—he cannot die!”

Alana tensed, disliking the moment they were sharing. “It is not safe,” he repeated. “And as much as I dinna wish to add to yer grief, yer prisoners here.”

Alice cried, “He is our father! But you only care that we are your prisoners!”

Iain tensed with rising anger. “It is not safe—ye will wind up in the midst of a siege, and ye could die along with Sir Alexander.”

Alice trembled with dismay, releasing him. “I will never marry you,” she hissed.

Alana almost gasped. How had Alice learned of Bruce’s interest in their union?

“I dinna realize there was to be a union betwixt us,” Iain said coldly. “I am protecting ye, Alice, and I am protecting yer sister and yer mother, too.”

“No. You are keeping us from Sir Alexander as he lays on his deathbed!”

Alana could not stand to hear any more. She left Godfrey’s side, hurrying to Iain and touching his arm. “Iain. He is my father, too. I must see him. We all must go!”

Iain turned to her. “Alana, I cannot allow it.”

Suddenly it was as if they were alone in the hall. She laid both her hands on his chest. “I am asking, no, begging. Take Joan and my sisters to our father. Delay the attack on Elgin. Take me to my father.”

Iain inhaled, his gaze locked with hers, his expression grim. “They would take ye prisoner,” he finally said. “Buchan would have ye locked away for the rest of yer life!”

“I don’t care!” she cried, for in that moment, she was desperate.

“I care,” he said. “No one goes to Elgin, except for me.”

Margaret sank onto a bench and began to weep.

* * *

O
UTSIDE
,
THE
A
PRIL
morning was sunny and bright, but Alana felt chilled to the bone as she stood beside Iain as he prepared to mount his steed and ride to war. The front gates were open, and she could see his Highland army, two hundred strong, milling about the ridge. His banner with its red dragon flew above it.

“Ye will forgive me,” he said.

Alana could barely speak. She felt dazed. Her father was dying, Alice had heard about the marriage and Iain had denied them a visit to Sir Alexander. She found her voice. “I will probably forgive you, one day,” she said hoarsely.

He seized her arm and pulled her close, kissing her roughly on the mouth. “I am going to war. I will think of ye every day, Alana.”

“And I will think of you, every single day.” His refusal to allow her to see her dying father did not affect her love. Nothing could affect her love for Iain, she thought. “And I will pray that God keeps you safe.” She felt almost no emotion now—she felt nothing but the need to see her dying father one final time, even if it meant risking capture by her uncle.

She
had
to see Sir Alexander before he died. There was no choice. He was her father, and she loved him, in spite of everything.

“I am keeping ye safe, Alana,” he said.

She could not smile at him. She knew what she must do. Part of her was afraid—of course she was. She had no wish to be captured by her uncle. Still cold, she hugged her light wool mantle closer to her chest.

He leaped astride his horse and galloped from the keep.

Alana did not wait to see him ride all the way through the entry tower; she whirled and ran into the hall, refusing to think, filled with determination. Joan sat at the table, weeping. Margaret held her hand tightly, red-eyed. Eleanor sat on her other side, offering comfort. Alice was standing with Godfrey, and they both whirled.

Alana halted. “We will ride to Elgin in an hour,” she said. “Godfrey, you will guide us.”

He paled.

* * *

N
O
ONE
SPOKE
during the hard ride to Elgin. They kept to the main road, but were prepared to veer from it and into the woods at the first sign of any other travelers—or of any soldiers. At noon, Alana insisted that they pause briefly to rest, for it was clear to her that her sisters and Lady Joan were not up to the task of such a rapid and hard ride. And in the midafternoon, they heard thunder in the near distance.

Godfrey halted everyone abruptly. Thunder boomed again. Alana flinched, in that moment realizing that it wasn’t thunder that they were hearing—it was the battering ram.

Iain had begun his siege.

The other women realized it, too, as they looked at one another with fright. “How will we get in during a siege?” Joan asked hoarsely. Her eyes were red from weeping. She had not been able to stop crying since they had left Brodie.

Now they could hear the frightened whinnies of horses, the shouts of men. They had not expected Iain to attack so swiftly. Alana rode up to Godfrey. “She is right. How will we get in?”

Godfrey gave her a look. “He will probably grant you anything.”

“I already begged him to allow us to go to Sir Alexander!”

“I doubt you begged enough.”

Alana began shaking her head. “We should tie the horses up in the woods and go on foot. Tonight, when the fighting stops, we can try to gain entry through a side door. You will be allowed in, Godfrey, surely, as will Lady Joan and the girls.”

They dismounted and led their horses into the forest. As they walked along a deer path, the sounds of the battle growing louder, Godfrey said, “What if Buchan is there?”

Alana prayed that was not the case. “I have to see my father.” She did not know what she would do if she learned Buchan was within Elgin.

Alice suddenly seized her arm from behind, causing her to whirl. “Why? You do not even know him! You cannot love him! You betrayed us and pledged to Bruce!” Tears streamed down her face for the first time since she had learned of Sir Alexander’s wounds.

Alana cringed. “I do care. That is why I have risked Iain’s wrath to bring us here!”

Alice released her horse and started running through the forest toward Elgin and the siege.

Alana was about to set chase, but Godfrey restrained her. “You cannot possibly reason with her now. And she will not go far.”

He was right. She glanced at Joan and Margaret. To her surprise, Joan’s eyes were not filled with hostility or hatred. They only mirrored grief, enough so, that suddenly Alana had the urge to comfort the other woman. But she did not dare do so.

They paused when they reached the edge of the woods, where Alice sat huddled beneath a pine tree. The hill beyond was bare; Elgin sat upon the adjacent ridge.

Iain’s army was lined up there. Archers were firing upon Duncan’s men on the ramparts, as they fired back. Other Highland warriors loaded and shot missiles from three catapults. A dozen men were working the battering ram upon Elgin’s front gates. No one was yet attempting to climb the castle walls.

Joan and Margaret sat down with Alice under the pine tree. Alana now saw Iain upon his warhorse, riding back and forth along the ridge, directing his men. Some of the numbness within her faded. She watched a hail of arrows descend upon him and fear stabbed through her, but the arrows bounced off his shield.

Godfrey tied up their horses and turned to Alana. For a moment, he watched the battle, too. “He is right. You should not go within, Alana. You are a traitor. If my father is inside, if Buchan is, you will be seized the moment you are recognized.”

Alana knew he was right. And for one moment, she thought of heeding Godfrey. But then she knew she must see her father one final time. She had to know why he had chosen Alice and Margaret over her; she had to know if he truly loved her at all.

She fought sudden tears. She had to know why!

“I have no choice,” she said hoarsely.

“There is always a choice,” Godfrey said.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
AFTER
dark, the catapults ceased. The archers had already retired to their cook fires, and the battering ram had been parked with stone brakes. An eerie silence fell upon the night.

Godfrey led the women, all in hoods, from the woods and across the first hillside. By the time they reached the next ridge, Elgin a dark silhouette atop it, two more hours had passed. Unspeaking, they traversed a gulley in order to skirt Iain’s entire army.

Margaret was the one who knew where the side door was. She had often used it as a small child, going outside to play with the dairymaid’s children, in a time when the land was not at war, but at peace.

When they finally reached the door, Joan could barely stand, and both of her daughters held her up. Godfrey called out softly until the peephole was opened.

“Who goes there!” a soldier asked. Through the slit in the wood door, the whites of his eyes showed vividly in the dark night.

“It is Godfrey of Frendraught, and Lady Comyn and her daughters are with me.”

The peephole was abruptly drawn closed. Alana trembled, and several minutes went by, but then the door was opened. “Godfrey?”

“Sir Edwain?” Godfrey asked.

“Good God, your father will be thrilled that you are here.” Sir Edwain pulled the door wide and the women rushed inside. He then shut it and bolted it behind them.

“Sir Alexander.” Joan seized his arm. “Is he alive?”

“Yes, but barely, my lady,” the knight said grimly. He glanced briefly—curiously—at Alana. “I will take you to him.”

As they rushed across the bailey, Godfrey asked, “So my father is here, defending Elgin?”

“Yes, and we have been expecting the earl at any time.”

Alana’s heart leaped with relief. Her uncle wasn’t at Elgin—not yet. She only had to fear discovery by Duncan. She tugged her hood up higher, until the brim fell across her forehead.

“My friend, let us take the ladies to Sir Alexander, and then I will seek out my father,” Godfrey said, but in a tone of command. Alana knew he meant to protect her from Duncan.

They soon entered the castle. Inside, torches lit the walls, and weeping could be heard. As they hurried to the stairs, they passed a pile of dead soldiers. Amongst them was a very young, freckled boy, and Alana looked away, trembling.

When would men realize that no good ever came of war?

They raced up the narrow stone stairs and onto the second floor. The torchlight in the corridor was duller now.

Alana’s heart turned over hard. Ahead, a door was open. Inside, the room was lit by candles and with firelight. And she knew exactly what she would next see....

Joan whimpered. Alice broke into a run, rushing inside ahead of them. She screamed.

Joan and Margaret followed, Alana staying behind them. They faltered upon the chamber’s threshold. Alana looked past them.

Sir Alexander lay upon the bed, his clothes soaked with his blood. His face was so white and still, he looked like a corpse. His weapons lay in a pile on the floor.

Alice held his hand, but she dropped it and whirled, fury in her eyes, her tone. “How dare you come with us!” she screamed at Alana. “Traitor! Whore! Be gone! Leave us alone! Go back to your Highland lover!”

Alana flinched, but otherwise did not move. Joan ran to her husband and sank onto the bed, taking his hands in hers. “Alexander,” she cried. “It is I, Joan. I love you! You cannot die!”

“Father!” Margaret dropped to her knees by his shoulder. “Please don’t die. Please don’t leave us.”

Alice glanced from her sister and father to Alana again. “Go away,” she said.

Alana hugged herself. “He is my father, too.”

Choking on tears, Alice knelt beside Margaret. “Father? Can you hear us? Please, wake up!”

Godfrey touched Alana from behind. “You should speak with him now, and I will get you back outside, before I seek out Duncan.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, stricken. “I have to say goodbye, too!”

Godfrey grimaced. “Then I will do my best to keep Duncan away from this room.” Suddenly he seized her arm and their gazes locked.

Alana froze, for an instant thinking he meant to kiss her. Instead, his gaze darkened and he turned and hurried away.

“Joan?”

Alana jerked as Sir Alexander whispered his wife’s name. She saw his lashes fluttering as he attempted to open his eyes.

Joan stroked his forehead. “We are here, darling. I am here with the girls.”

“Alice?” he gasped. “Margaret?”

“They are here,” Joan whispered.

Alana felt dismay stabbing through her.

“We are here, Father,” Margaret cried.

He turned his head slightly toward his daughters. He seemed to smile. “Alana?”

Alana started crying. She went forward. “I am here, also...Father.”

He was still gazing at Alice and Margaret. “I love you so.” He suddenly looked at Alana. “I love you. I always have.”

The tears streamed down her cheeks. Alana somehow nodded. But his eyes were closed. “Oh, God,” she gasped, terrified that he was dead.