Highland Protector (27 page)

“Would ye be willing to work with Gowan?”

“Ye mean when ye move on to became a laird?”

“ ‘Tis a possibility.”

“ ‘Tis more than that. Lochancorrie will be yours after today.”

“Is that a prophecy, old friend?”

“Nay, but ye can take it as one if ye like. ‘Tis time ye left the king’s service. Mon like ye has choices that me and Gowan dinnae and ne’er will have. Ye dinnae have to remain at the king’s beck and call.”

Simon smiled fleetingly. “We are all at his beck and call, Peter. ‘Tis part of him being the king and all.”

“Was that a jest?” Peter met Simon’s narrow-eyed gaze with a grin but quickly grew serious again. “I ken that ye dinnae like it said, but ye have a great heart. Ye feel things too deeply at times. Naught wrong with that. Wheesht, it has made ye an excellent hunter of the truth and a lot of innocents have been saved and a lot of the guilty duly punished. But, it also means that by doing what ye do, seeing all the rot that ye must see, leaves its mark. If ye have a chance to be a laird, take it and leave the dark work to men like Gowan.”

“And ye?”

“Aye, and me, though I will sorely miss having ye about. Ah, here’s our lad.”

Wallace arrived with Gowan only one step behind him. Simon studied Gowan closely and decided he was right to think that Gowan had his eye on Simon’s job. When Simon still felt no qualms about that at all, he also decided that Peter was right. It was time to leave his post as the king’s hound. He was tired of the hunt and the ugliness he saw all too often.

“The mon is but a mile away, mayhap less,” said Wallace, pointing toward the trees he had just emerged from. “The laird and the mon with him paused at a wee burn to water their mounts. I think there may have been an argument for one of them was sent to the ground. Hard. Wee bit of blood on the ground, nay much, so I think it was nay more than a slap or the like.”

“So, Henry hasnae killed his lackey Walter yet,” murmured Simon, “but he is obviously not verra pleased with the mon.”

“Nay,” agreed Wallace, “and nay doubt it was Sir Walter who went down. There was no other sign to tell me there was more fighting and the laird wouldnae let anyone put him on the ground without making the one who did it pay a verra dear price.”

“A verra dear price indeed. Do ye think they are going to make a stand then?”

Wallace nodded. “I do. I circled round and there are a lot of signs showing that men are gathering nay so far ahead of where the laird and Sir Walter stopped. If ye think it wise or helpful, I could draw closer, see how many men the laird has, how the land lies all about where they mean to make a stand. I kenned ye were eager to learn where they were so I thought I had best tell ye that and ask if ye want me to go back and find out anything else.”

“And I will go with him, Sir Simon.”

“Aye, Gowan, I think that would be a good idea.” Simon looked at Wallace. “How long have ye been a soldier for the laird?”

“Nay long, but I can handle a sword weel enough to stay alive until I can run.” Wallace blushed when the others laughed, but their good humor brought a faint smile to his face. “I was set to farm my wife’s father’s land, wasnae I. But, for this madness, the laird grabbed every mon who wasnae too old or too lame and yanked them into his army. I wouldnae be surprised if half the people in Lochancorrie have a knife at their throats, on them or on one of the ones they love.”

“Which makes for a verra weak army,” said Gowan.

“Aye and nay,” said Simon. “It all depends on how deeply the mon concerned believes Henry can reach those the poor sod loves even though Henry is here, about to face us in battle.”

Wallace nodded. “There are some at Lochancorrie who think the laird has sold his verra soul to the devil and that gives him power.”

“Henry is just a mon. He may be evil, cruel, and all of that, but he is still just a mon. Go with Gowan, Wallace, and see what can be seen. We dinnae want to lead our men in blind. We will wait here until we ken something, e’en if all ye can discern is that some of Henry’s men wait for us just beyond the trees. My hope is that, since ye have already begun to arrest men, Gowan, the army that could have been mustered will have already begun to shrink. I dinnae think many men will want to risk being taken up for treason if their laird isnae pushing them into it.”

“That was my hope, too, Sir Simon,” Gowan said, and then started off toward the line of trees. “Come along, Wallace. Show me this trail.”

“It will be easier to do so if ye would be a bit more careful where ye are putting those big feet of yours,” muttered Wallace as he hurried after Gowan.

Simon could tell by the hint of a smile on Gowan’s face that the man had heard that impertinence but had taken no offense, simply pretended that he had not heard a word. It was one of the things that made Gowan such an excellent leader of men. He allowed the men to grumble as men would, and needed to, so long as they continued to do the job they were supposed to. That understanding and the fact that Gowan did all he could to make certain his men had food, clothing, and the best of weaponry was what kept his men so loyal to him. Peter was right. If Gowan decided to become the king’s hound instead of just the captain of the king’s guard, he would be missed.

“I was right,” Simon murmured. “Gowan has grown a wee bit more ambitious.”

“ ‘Tis a good ambition,” said Peter. “Gowan wants to marry a lass but her family sits higher at the table than he does. To become the king’s hound would change that.”

“Ah, so ambition has a bonnie face,” said Tormand as he stepped up beside Simon and then grinned at Simon’s surprise.

“How did ye get past the king’s guards?” demanded Simon. “Especially since ye arenae wearing one of your ridiculous disguises.”

“I ken most of these men, dinnae I. And those disguises I wore were verra weel thought out.”

Simon snorted in derision, Peter echoing the sound. “Honestly now, Tormand. Tell me what ye are doing here. Has Morainn had another vision?” he asked quietly, not wanting any of the other men standing around to hear him for what Morainn could do unsettled too many, raising whispers of witches.

“Nay. I am but here to collect my due, get a few answers,” Tormand replied. “I have been tripping along the edges of all this for weeks. I want to see it ended, if I am allowed, mayhap even take a small part in the ending of it.” He patted the sword hung at his side, a weapon Simon knew could be wielded with awe-inspiring precision by his friend. “I will leave ye the honor of doing in Henry as ye please but, if ye mean to kill him here, I would like a word with him first.” “Why?”

“Nothing verra important. Just a need to satisfy my curiosity.”

Simon did not believe that for a moment, but he did not press Tormand for more information. “How are the children behaving? I hope Morainn isnae troubled too much by their presence.”

“Nay, the children help her as weel as they can and she enjoys them. After I see the end of this, I will take them with me to collect Ilsabeth. They will be letting her out of prison, aye?”

There was no mistaking the steel behind Tormand’s question, a force that made it more of an order than a question. “I plan to see to that as soon as I present the king with the true traitors and the leaders of the plot.”

Tormand looked as if he wanted to argue but was stopped from doing so by the return of Wallace and Gowan. It took several rounds of discussion to decide what to do next. Simon mused that it was fortunate Henry and Walter were waiting for their allies to appear or there would be no one to battle with if the king’s men continued to just discuss fighting and not actually do it, and Simon said as much. Within moments they were creeping through the wood, planning to move around Walter and Henry until they encircled them.

When Simon finally saw his brother, Walter, and the men they had with him, he knew they could win this fight. It was the first moment since they had sprung the trap in the dungeons and caught only soldiers that he had felt so confident. Some of the men looked tough, confident, and ready to fight. Simon suspected they were swordsmen for hire, men long overdue for a hanging who would rather die by the sword than be taken prisoner. There were about a dozen men from Lochancorrie, Walter had said, and Simon suspected they were the ones huddled together looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but there. Even better, Henry and Walter were arguing. The alliance they had made was shattering. Simon drew his sword and prepared to face his elder brother on an even footing for the first time in his life.

“They have deserted us,” said Walter, looking at what was not even half of the army they had been promised. “We have verra few o’er what we gathered ourselves.”

“Aye, I think my wee brother has been verra busy,” Henry murmured.

“What do ye mean?”

“I believe our allies in this are now a wee bit busy trying to protect their own necks.” “They have been arrested?!”

Henry looked at Walter, who had gone pale and was beginning to sweat. “That would be my guess, aye. I suspect we can thank your cousin for that. He probably squealed like a pig on the butchering block. I told ye that ye should have killed the fool but ye believed David would ne’er betray ye, e’en though ye betrayed him by tossing him to the wolves.”

“Then we should be fleeing this place, nay standing here ready to face the king’s men. We dinnae have enough soldiers for a fight like that. We should be headed for the coast and hie ourselves off to France until we can face Simon and Gowan and their men.”

“I hadnae realized what a coward ye are.”

“Nay a coward. A mon who can see that we are-nae ready yet. We need more men, more power, more money. In France we would be safe and could make new plans.”

“This is my new plan. We stand and fight and take down the best men the king has to offer. Then we take the king.”

“Ye are still thinking Simon is the lad ye bullied and drove from home years ago. He isnae that boy anymore. He is a mon many fear and he has brought many a mon to the gallows. The king listens to him. He willnae heed us if we try to say Sir Simon is wrong. Sir Simon is never wrong. If we lose this battle and he drags us afore the king, we had best say our prayers for we are naught but dead men.”

“Walter, I am going to give you two choices.” Henry looked at Walter and nodded when the man paled even more, so much so that he looked ready to faint. “Ye can stand and fight like a mon or ye can have me cut your cursed throat to stop your whining. ‘Tis a boring way to shut the mouth of a coward but I havenae the time to do it as I wish, and to use ye to show these men that cowardice willnae be tolerated.”

Walter opened his mouth to respond only to squeak out a warning. “They are here. ‘Tis too late to do anything to save ourselves.”

Simon stepped out into the clearing where his brother and Walter stood with their small army. He was not surprised when the men from Lochancorrie immediately dropped their weapons and surrendered. It was possible that the sight of Wallace alive and fighting on the side of the king’s men made them see a chance to get out of the trap Henry had put them in. Once the men from Lochancorrie surrendered, a great many others did as well. Simon left Gowan, Peter, and Tormand to deal with the others while he stepped up to face Henry.

Henry smiled and Simon had to fight a fear left from a childhood scarred by this man. Walter had warned Henry that he mistook Simon for the boy he had been the last time Henry had seen him, but Simon knew he suffered something similar. He, too, saw himself as that boy, the one who had never been able to get the best of Henry. He stiffened his spine as he reminded himself of all he had accomplished in the years since Henry had left him broken and bloodied to die on the bed where he had been caught lying with Henry’s wife.

“Weel met, little brother,” drawled Henry, and drew his sword.

“I am going to ask ye to surrender to the king’s justice, Henry,” Simon said as he and his brother began to circle each other in preparation for a fight that Simon knew would be to the death unless he could bring Henry down in a way that allowed capture instead of immediate execution.

“Aye, ye would, wouldnae ye?” Henry chuckled and it was not a pleasant sound. “Ye may get my cowardly partner Walter to do so, but I have nay wish to hand myself o’er to the verra king I meant to kill. If I must die, I will do so by your sword. Here. Now.”

Henry had barely finished speaking when he lunged. Simon parried the attack and the fight began in earnest. He did his best to keep from getting wounded by his brother, knowing that Henry would move in for the kill as quickly as any adder. Henry would not be held back by the fact that they were of the same blood, born of the same mother. It soon became evident, however, that, like so many who depended on fear and intimidation, Henry had not honed his skills with a sword over the years. Simon had.

It was not until he was soaked in sweat and growing concerned that he might tire before Henry when luck gave Simon the chance he had been waiting for. Henry stumbled over a collapsed Walter, who was sprawled in the dirt whimpering over a badly wounded arm. Simon struck swiftly, knocking the sword from Henry’s hand. Before he could secure the man and take him prisoner, however, Henry pulled a dagger from his boot and attacked again.

They wrestled across the clearing that had been chosen as the battlefield. Henry scored Simon with the dagger several times, but Simon realized he had more strength than Henry. Pushing aside all doubt of his ability to beat the man who had terrorized him for so long, Simon soon had the man pinned beneath him. Tormand moved in quickly to help Simon tie his brother’s hands behind his back.

As Simon stood up, all too aware of his bruises and bleeding wounds, he looked down at Henry. He felt no triumph, no sense of a job well done. All he felt was weary and resigned. He had beaten Henry but that meant that he would be taking his own brother to the king for a hasty trial and a horrific execution. He would have his own brother’s blood on his hands.

“I was pulled into this against my will!” cried Walter, dragging Simon from his dark thoughts, and he looked over at the trussed up Walter. “He threatened my own mother! What choice did I have?” Walter did not seem to notice that Peter, who stood by him, was paying no attention to his pleas and excuses.