Highland Guard (15 page)

Annys could feel the heat of their collective anger despite how some of them had actually gone into what many would call a cold rage. Harcourt was most certainly in the grip of one. She could see it in his eyes. The other was Callum, which surprised her a little. He was usually the most pleasant and calm of the men.

“He is a dead mon,” Harcourt said.

“Weel, that would be a verra nice gift to give me, but I fear I must refuse,” Annys said. “Ye cannae go about killing a laird simply because he is an uncouth, foul-mouthed piece of midden heap slime.”

Those odd words slipped through Harcourt’s mind and reined in his temper enough for him to think more clearly and he looked at Annys. “Midden heap slime?” She shrugged while the others chuckled. “This goes far beyond insult, Annys. Half of what he wrote are words no weel-bred mon would e’er say before a lady. Ye cannae say this didnae upset you.”

“I can but t’would be a lie. T’was like a knife to the heart. Then I got angry. And because I was so verra angry, I started stomping about and threatening to go to his keep and drop Roban on his head.” She nodded when the men winced. “I should probably nay send him this reply.” She removed a rolled up letter from where she had tucked it into her sleeve. “One should ne’er write letters while angry.”

Harcourt snatched the letter from her hand, unrolled it, and read, “
Sir William MacQueen, self-proclaimed laird of Duncraoch: I thank ye for your prompt response to your promise to respond in your first response to my grave concerns about your son. Ye may have considered waiting until your attack of bile had receded, however. I am a very truthful widow, which ye would have discovered had ye ever visited us here at Glencullaich and ever actually spoken to me since David died. My son, David’s son, has been accepted by both Crown and Church as his heir. And, nay, ye will not have Glencullaich. Ever. I would also like to remind you that I am not David. My husband was a kind man, always prepared to help when ye arrived with your wagons and your hands out. The laird of Glencullaich filled your larders, your purses, and your stables many times. The laird is now a boy of not yet five years of age and will do as his mother bids him. As said, I am not my husband, sir. Ye and all your kin will no longer feed off the charity of Glencullaich. Your wagons will always be turned away unless your clan’s children are close to dying of starvation in the street. If that dire circumstance comes to pass, I will assist them by sending precisely what they need to precisely where they need it as I am most weary of finding goods my husband gave you when ye cried poor being sold for a profit in a market. As for your son, Sir Adam, whom ye refuse to rein in, he now prepares to attack Glencullaich. He will not ever get Glencullaich, even if I must burn it to the ground, salt the fields, and taint the water. There is still time for you to call him back from his folly but, if ye choose to remain ignorant in this matter, then I have but one more thing to say to you. I hope you have more than one son. Cordially yours, the whore, Lady Annys Helen Stuart Chisholm MacQueen, widow of the late Sir David William MacQueen, a victim of Sir Adam MacQueen’s greed.”

The laughter of the men did lift her spirits and she was pleased it had dimmed some of the terrible anger that had gripped them. “See? Something I most certainly shouldnae actually send to him.”

“Och, aye, my love, ye most certainly should,” said Harcourt and he called for Gavin.

Annys tried to stop him, but he easily held the letter out of her reach. The moment Gavin appeared in the doorway, Harcourt took him the letter. Annys looked across the table and found Callum and Gybbon grinning at her.

“I just needed to spit all that anger out. I ne’er intended to send it to him,” she said.

“Oh, but it must be sent,” said Callum.

“Aye,” agreed Gybbon, the other four men nodding their agreement. “After what he wrote to you, ye deserve to
spit it out,
all over him.”

“Perhaps, but when dealing with a mon who could e’en write such a letter, I am nay certain it does much good.” She shrugged. “Then, too, what matter if I spit? ’Tis nay as if being polite, mayhap e’en pleading gently for him to come to his senses, will make any difference at all.”

“Nay, I am thinking the moment he kenned what his son was about, heard that ’tis naught but a woman and child ruling here, a keep monned by ones who have ne’er fought a battle, and where there are but six or seven men he and his son might consider of any worth, he lost all reason.”

“Greed stole his wits and his honor.”

Gybbon silently toasted her with a raise of his tankard and then took a drink.

When Harcourt returned and sat down beside her, Annys asked, “Is it safe for Gavin to leave Glencullaich now? Ye told me the area round here fair crawled with Sir Adam’s spies and that none of us should wander verra far.”

“True but Gavin is marked as a messenger,” Harcourt said. “I dinnae think e’en Sir Adam would harm the boy. ’Tis a thing that would blacken his name, his clan’s name, so deeply he might ne’er wash it away. Messengers are usually left alone. The worst Sir Adam might do is read the message if he stopped Gavin on his way. And, as Sir William’s son, could e’en accept it in his stead.”

He would not tell her yet about the added message he had sent. Although he did not like to boast, this time he had made a point of naming himself, every well-set, powerful relative he had, and named his companions in arms. It should have the effect of making Gavin as untouchable as a leper. If nothing else the very size of his family, the number of their allies through marriage or treaty, should make Sir William certain that his threat held the sting of truth. When a man with a clan the size of his, one with so many allies, told you that you would be made to regret any and every bruise on a lad, you made certain that boy stayed safe if you had any sense at all.

“Welcome back you two,” Annys said as she looked at the MacFingals. “I beg your pardon for being so consumed by my own troubles that I didnae say it the moment I arrived.”

“No need to do that,” said Nathan. “We ken that ye were a wee bit distracted.”

She looked at each man, all of whom had gone very quiet, and asked, “So, ye were successful then.”

“Aye. Decided it was time to come back.”

Not only was it very strange for Nathan to be so reticent, she also caught the way he sent Harcourt a faintly panicked look. “What have ye discovered then?”

Nathan sighed. “The mon is assembling an army about half a day’s ride from here.”

“A big army?” she asked, pleased with how calm she sounded when, inside her head was a terrified woman throwing valuables into a sack, grabbing her child, a lamb, and a cat and running for the hills.

“That it is, but ’tis mostly hired swords and I wouldnae consider many of them all that skilled with a sword, either. Ye cannae trust such men to hold fast against a good defense.”

“Is he soon to start gathering them all together and begin advancing on Glencullaich?”

“Aye. The mon himself isnae there yet though. Dinnae think they will do anything until he is.”

“Well then, it appears we probably have a few days to ready ourselves.” She stood up, smiled at them all, and left.

“She took that weel,” said Ned. “Ow!” he muttered and rubbed the back of his head where Callum had just slapped him.

“Nay, Ned,” said Harcourt. “She didnae take it weel at all, but she will settle to the hard truth of it soon.” He finished his ale and stood up. “I believe I will go see if I can help her do that.”

Despite his concern about Annys, he had to smile at some of the ribald remarks flung his way. They were all good, brave men. He was glad they were with him even as he felt the pinch of guilt for dragging them into this danger. Harcourt knew, however, that not one of them would have refused to come even if he had been able to tell them exactly what they would face. And, if any one of them had had the smallest doubt, the moment Sir Adam had tried to take Annys and then actually taken Benet, that doubt had vanished and the need to stop Sir Adam had hardened into a steely resolve. They would see the man defeated, as thoroughly as possible.

He entered Annys’s bedchamber and hesitated when he found her face down on her bed. Crying women had always troubled him, making him feel a little helpless. A crying Annys tore his heart out. He shut the door and cautiously approached the bed.

“I am nay weeping,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, “so ye dinnae need to approach as if ye fear I will suddenly become some madwoman, wailing and pulling at my hair.”

Harcourt sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her back. “Ye have earned a fit.”

“Nay, I havenae. We kenned this was coming,” she said, turning onto her back to look at him. “It was just a shock to hear that it was truly happening. That he was gathering an army but a half-day’s ride from here and that within days that army could be at these gates. I have ne’er been in, been close to, or even seen a battle. I left home when I was still rather young and in the few years I was at home naught much happened. Then I came here, to a place so peaceful I am surprised any mon here e’en kens how to wield a sword. Now we are at war.”

“’Tis a sin for that bastard to bring that here, to this place,” Harcourt agreed.

“Aye and may he rot in hell for all eternity for it. But, after the shock? After the moment of sinking into the well of it-is-all-my-fault, it passed. Then I just felt so verra, verra sad. I am still sad.”

He yanked off his boots and settled himself next to her on the bed. “I might be able to cheer you.”

“Do ye think so?” Annys bit back a smile and began to unlace his shirt. “I think I can guess how ye might do that.”

Harcourt began to undo her gown, kissing each small patch of skin he uncovered. “I suspicion ye can. Ye are a clever lass.” He touched his mouth to hers. “I will make ye smile again. I will make ye shout with joy,” he vowed and kissed her.

 

 

He did. Twice.

Later, lying naked, sweaty, and pleasantly languid beneath an equally naked, sweaty, and languid Harcourt, Annys smiled. The knowledge that an army would soon be hurling itself at the walls surrounding her keep and that she had a lot to do to prepare for that was easily pushed aside. For now she wanted to cling to this moment. This time out of time when she was sated and content, holding close a man who could make her shout with joy. The world and all the trouble it held was still out there. It could wait for a little while longer.

Annys stared out the window at all the activity in the bailey. She had taken a seat on the cushioned bench to gain the best light for her sewing only to have her attention caught firmly by what was going on outside. The preparations for battle were now obvious, far more so than they had been when Harcourt was just seeing to the strengthening of the defenses already in place. Her heart ached as she watched her people work. This was not what she wanted for them, for herself, or for her child. What had always made Glencullaich such a beautiful place had been its peace. Sir Adam had shattered that with his greed.

The cat she had rescued jumped up on the bench, pushing its head into her hand. Annys smiled and scratched its ears, pleased with the diversion. The animal refused to stay in the stables and she did not have the heart to chase it away every time it sought her out.

“There is a dark cloud o’er Glencullaich, Roban,” she said, the animal’s loud purr comforting her for the moment. “It has a name, too. Sir Adam the Bastard.”

“Are ye actually talking to that cat?”

Annys ignored the tingle of a blush on her cheeks and smiled at Harcourt. “Aye, and Roban is a verra good listener.”

It was absurd but he had to acknowledge that there was a territorial battle going on between him and the cat. This very morning he had woken up, begun to pull Annys closer so that he could kiss her awake, and found himself staring into the cat’s eyes. Shaking off an odd unease over being watched, he had bent his head to place his lips on hers only to have the cat place one surprisingly large paw right over her mouth. He knew people would think he was mad if he said so, but Harcourt knew that was when the battle lines were drawn.

“It was in the bed this morning.”

“I ken it but I am certain he is verra clean. I just dinnae ken how he keeps getting inside the room.”

And now it was
he.
Harcourt inwardly shook his head. The women in his family always did the same, naming the animal first, and then calling it he or she and treating the animal as if it were a part of the family. Harcourt could see the same path being walked here. Then he told himself that, if his brother Brett could deal with little Ella’s cat Clyde, which snarled at him all the time, he could learn to deal with Roban.

“Slips inside when it thinks no one is watching it, just waits for someone to open the door.”

She nodded. “I suspicion that is just what he does. Cats can be verra quick. So, tell me, how does the work progress?”

“It goes weel.” He sat down next to her, ignoring the way the cat glared at him from the other side of her. “I wish I could tell ye that this is all but a waste of time, that there will be no battle.” He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. “I cannae. It would be a lie and I willnae lie to you, nay e’en to put ye at ease. I believe naught short of that fool’s death will stop it. Sadly, we cannae find the lackwit so that we might test the truth of that.”

“Ye have been looking for him?”

“Aye, but cautiously. ’Tis nay verra safe for any of us to be far from these walls without a large, weel-armed force at our side. The woods fair crawl with Sir Adam’s men.” He smiled. “And a few MacFingals. Those lads have lessened Sir Adam’s army by a wee bit.”

“They go out there e’en though ye believe it isnae safe?”

“MacFingals do what they please. They also do some things with an enviable skill the clan has become renowned for. One of those things is slipping out, creeping up on an enemy unseen, and winnowing away at its strength.”

“By killing them.” She shivered, the cold, brutal reality of what they were all being forced into hitting her hard.

“There may nay have been any formal declaration, any call to arms, but this
is
war, Annys.”

It was easy to see how that cruel truth was upsetting her. Harcourt knew she was too sharp-witted to have not seen exactly where the trouble with Sir Adam had always been headed. Even those who had not lived the quiet, peaceful life she had at Glencullaich could grow unsteady when the time came where no choices were left to pick from, when the army was actually at the gates and all they had ever cared about was at risk. Hope for a better outcome could be a stubborn thing, he thought as he put his arm around her.

“I ken it,” Annys said as she leaned against him. “I have kenned it from the start, or, mayhap I should say, have feared it from the start of all the trouble. After all, I was ne’er going to give Sir Adam what he wanted, was I? What allies I might turn to are ne’er going to interfere in what they would see as a familial argument over an inheritance. E’en Adam’s own kin willnae stop him for, in their hearts, they want him to succeed. Glencullaich has always been the jewel of the family’s holdings. The greed for what it has was always there.”

She looked at him. “There were times when I thought David was wrong to give his kin so much, as if he owed some tithing to them just for sitting in the laird’s chair. I cannae help but think that he was feeding their addle-brained belief that they deserved this place, nay him.”

“That is verra possible. He was doing what he needed to do to keep the peace and they saw only weakness.” He kissed her cheek, ignoring the way the cat moved to sit on her lap. “David did the right thing. He wasnae a warrior; he was a scholar. He could fight but he was ne’er one who wanted to.”

“Ye
want
to?” she asked, doing nothing to hide her disbelief.

“Nay, not truly. If Sir Adam came to offer a truce, I would be willing to hear him out. But, I willnae say I dinnae feel a wee bit of, weel, anticipation. ’Tis the nature of a mon.”

“But he willnae come forward with any offer of a truce.”

“Nay. He is determined to claim this place, so determined he doesnae care how much blood he needs to spill or how much of it has to be destroyed to get what he wants. Nay, I dinnae
want
to fight, but I do
want
verra badly to make certain Sir Adam MacQueen doesnae win.”

Harcourt leaned down to kiss her, pulling her closer as he brushed his lips over hers, immediately getting the taste for more. Before he could deepen the kiss, however, something moved between them. He pulled back just enough to look down at the cat now sitting on her lap between them. A quick look at Annys revealed her placing a hand over her mouth, her eyes alight with the laughter she tried to hold back.

“I think he may be jealous,” she choked out and started to giggle.

Under better circumstances Harcourt would have shared her amusement. He loved the sound of her laughter, an innocent, musical sound that begged anyone who heard it to share in her joy. Being denied the kiss he was craving made the situation a lot less amusing for him, even though her laughter made him smile. He narrowed his eyes at the cat.

“It should be in the stables,” he said and watched the cat’s ears flatten.

“Which is where he is constantly put,” she said as she gently picked up the cat, scratched its ears, and then set it down on the other side of her. “Yet he always finds me.”

“My brother’s wife has a wee girl who has a cat named Clyde and he always finds her as weel.”

Annys thought Harcourt spoke as if that was the worst fate to ever befall his brother, but decided not to tease him about it. “’Tis verra like a dog, isnae it?”

Harcourt did not think the world needed such an oddity, but said nothing, simply stole a brief kiss from Annys and stood up. “I must get back to work. When I saw ye watching out the window here I but thought to see if ye had anything to say about what ye were seeing, about what we are doing?”

“If ye think I have any advice, I fear I must disappoint you. All I ken about battle is that women best be ready to tend wounds or, if the need demands, grab the bairns and run.”

“And from all I have seen ye have prepared admirably for both needs though I will pray that ye dinnae have to meet either of them.”

Annys stood to watch him leave and heartily cursed Sir Adam MacQueen. She was weighted down with guilt for having pulled Harcourt and his friends into this. She could claim she had never forseen the risks he would have to take, but that was only partly true. The danger Sir Adam had presented had been clear enough that she had sent for Harcourt. Despite that, she had never truly felt she was placing the man in a dangerous position.

“That was some harsh language,” said Joan as she walked into the room carrying a stack of linens in her arms.

“I just realized that I may have been lack-witted enough to think that just having a few seasoned knights here might be enough to discourage Sir Adam.” Annys waved her hand toward the solar window she had been looking out of. “That was nay what I had envisioned when I sent for Sir Harcourt.”

“Weel, I did a lot of praying for Sir Adam to be struck down by lightning or smashed by a falling drawbridge or trampled by a horse. . . .” She winked at Annys when she laughed. “I decided God would forgive me for such prayers as Sir Adam means us harm and I am nay good with a sword.”

“I am nay sure but I think ye may be nudging blasphemy.”

Joan laughed as she set the pile of linens on the bench. “Dinnae think I be nudging. Think I be giving it a hearty kick or two.” She grew serious as she sat on the bench. “Annys, they couldnae have killed Sir Adam for crimes he committed for they really had no proof, only the word of that fool in the cell and what good is a hired sword accusing a knight? Biddy may have been seen as a good witness if we could have ever made her speak out against her lover, but she was the one who killed David. There would have been only her word that it had been ordered by Sir Adam. That family of his may nay be one ye want to claim as kin but they are nay without their own power.”

“Aye, it just wouldnae have worked. But now he will be openly attacking us when we have done naught. He cannae lie his way out of that. Witnesses will abound. If the fool survives this he will be hanged. Our David wasnae without his own powerful friends and they willnae allow Sir Adam to escape justice for an unprovoked attack upon his widow and child.”

“I ken it. They have people at court, Sir Adam e’en served in the king’s army for a time, they have a kinsmon as a sheriff, and they have wed daughters to some verra powerful men. David has much the same number of powerful people on his side. Yet, ye sound verra certain that Sir Adam will be the one who loses this fight.”

“I am. We have Sir Harcourt and his men, and we have Nicolas. Our men have trained until they are nay only far more skilled than they were but have far more pride and surety in themselves as fighting men. We also have something that bastard doesnae have.”

“And what is that?”

“A deep, abiding love for Glencullaich. This is our home. This is a blessed place that enjoys more peace than most. Yet Sir Adam brings war to our gates because of nay more than his own greed. We also loved our laird and he didnae want this bastard to have Glencullaich. So we will do all we can with the help of Sir Harcourt and his fine friends to make sure he ne’er claims it.”

“Such fire,” Annys murmured. “It makes me believe all will be weel.”

“Good. Now help me tear these rags.”

“Didnae we do enough?”

“Best to have too many than nay enough, aye? And have already had to use some on that young Ned MacFingal. He got poked by an arrow.”

Despite wishing they would not tempt her maids as much as they did, Annys liked the MacFingals and felt her heart skip with fear. “Is he weel?”

“Och, aye. The arrowhead only went in a wee bit because he was running away. The lad is fast on his feet. Now, come help me with these and then we shall go see if we have enough salve, herbs, and the like.”

Annys sat down and began the tedious work of tearing the cloth into strips for bandaging wounds. It was difficult not to think of what they would be needed for, but she did her best to adopt Joan’s more hopeful view of the future. The woman was right about the motives involved. The people of Glencullaich would be fighting for the home they loved. Sir Adam was fighting for the riches of the land he hoped to bleed away. That their motives for fighting were more honorable than his should count for something. Annys just prayed that it would be enough to bring them a victory.

 

 

Harcourt winced and shifted his body on the ground until the rock stopped digging into his ribs. He and Nicolas were well hidden in a low-ceilinged cave in the hills. They had had to crawl inside and would not be standing upright again until they crawled back out. Harcourt was discovering that he did not like crowded narrow spaces, especially ones where a man was surrounded by rock. It felt too much like a tomb.

What he could see below them, in a pretty little valley that usually held only cattle, was discomforting. Sir Adam was gathering an army, although he could not see the man himself. The man’s force almost matched Glencullaich’s now but more men continued to join the group. Seeing all the armed men, the cache of weapons, and the horses, Harcourt was certain that Sir Adam’s family was giving him a lot of help despite their denials.

“What of bringing our men to fight this army here, while they still gather?” he asked Nicolas.

“Verra tempting but I hesitate to do it,” Nicolas replied. “Only a few of the men we have been training have actually been in or e’en seen a battle. I cannae be certain how they would fare when away from the safety of the walls, and the actual hacking and slashing begins. It wouldnae take many of them losing the stomach for the bloody business, mayhap running away, which could start a rout that would make them all easy prey.”

“Yet ye think they will fare weel defending the walls? Blood will be spilt there as weel. No one can fight a bloodless war.”

“True, but it willnae be a bloodletting close at hand. The men willnae be sword point to sword point. E’en if the enemy tries to scale the walls it willnae be as harsh. Bodies would fall ere one of the men actually saw what he had just done to another mon too clearly unless it was particularly gruesome. There isnae the chance of walking o’er a blood-soaked field of body parts, some of which might belong to kin or a friend, and, aye, e’en the stench of battle is less.”