Ransom (61 page)

“Yes, my lord,” she replied.

Alford drew the king's attention yet again. “May I accompany you and Gillian?”

“Sit down,” John commanded.

Alford didn't heed the warning in the king's voice and dared to ask a second time.

Irritated with his baron, John decided to make him suffer. “No, you may not come along,” he said once again. “And while Gillian and I are taking our stroll, I suggest that you and Hugh and Edwin stay away from the open windows.”

Alford looked confused by the suggestion. John chuckled as he explained. “Did I forget to mention that Dunhanshire is completely surrounded by Highlanders? Ah, I can see from your expression I did forget. How remiss of me.”

“The heathens are here?” Alford's eyes bulged, and he swallowed loudly as he tried to get past his surprise.

“I just said that they were,” John replied. “You do know why they've come, don't you?”

Alford feigned ignorance. “No, my lord, I don't know why. How could I?”

John grinned, enjoying his friend's discomfort. He was annoyed with Alford for being so impudent in his presence and also because of the mischief he'd caused with Baron Morgan. The king had few loyal lords now, and even though Morgan wasn't a favored baron, he was well thought of by the others, and his voice in support of John's policies could well make a difference in the future. Alford's zeal in trying to locate Arianna's treasure had put his king in the middle of a squabble, and he planned to make his friend suffer a bit longer before he forgave him.

In truth, he would always forgive him for the simple reason that Alford had brought Arianna to him. No matter how severe his transgressions were, John would never forget that most wondrous gift.

Thinking to make him squirm now, he explained the Highlanders' mission. “Would you like me to tell you why they've come all this way?”

“If you are so inclined,” Alford replied smoothly.

“They want to kill you. Let me try to remember their exact words. Ah, yes, I recall now. The tallest one . . . his name is Maitland. He told me he's going to tear your heart out with his bare hands and shove it down your throat. Isn't that amusing? He's big enough to do it,” he added with a chuckle.

The king didn't expect an answer and continued on. “All three of the lairds were arguing—and in front of me, mind you—as to which one has the right to kill you.”

Alford forced a smile. “Yes, that is amusing.”

“They've also made threats against you, Edwin, and you as well, Hugh. The Buchanan laird has gotten it into his head that one of you struck Lady Gillian. He believes he now has the right to cut off the culprit's hands. Oh, he also mentioned cutting your feet off, Alford, or did I already mention that threat?”

Alford shook his head. “You should kill them for threatening your friends,” Alford cried. “Aren't we loyal to each other? You and I have been through many trying times, and I have always stood by your side against your enemies, including the pope. Kill them,” he demanded with a shout.

“No,” Gillian cried out.

John patted her arm. “See how you have upset this dear lady? Come along, Gillian. This discussion can wait until
we return, but I assure you, I have no plans to kill the lairds. Even I know that I would have every man in the Highlands at my doorstep, and I have enough disruption in my kingdom at the moment. I don't need more.”

The doors were thrown open and they stepped outside. Gillian was looking down at the steps as she lifted her skirts, and when she looked up again, she came to a dead stop and gasped.

There, standing in the center of the courtyard, were Iain and Ramsey and Brodick. They were all armed, with their swords in their scabbards.

Brodick's eyes seemed to blaze with anger, and he was staring at her. She couldn't take her gaze off him, and he looked as if he couldn't wait to get his hands on her.

John had given orders that they were to remain outside the walls, and he therefore didn't know what to make of the lairds' appearance. How, then, had they gotten inside? More curious than angry, he glanced at Gillian and asked, “You willingly pledged yourself to that laird?”

“I did willingly marry him, my lord,” she answered. “And I love him very much.”

“Then what they say is true. Love is surely blind.”

Not knowing if he was jesting and expected her to laugh, or serious and expected her agreement, she remained silent.

As she moved closer to Brodick, he shifted his position until his legs were braced apart and he took up twice the space. Iain and Ramsey immediately did the same.

Their message was clear. They weren't going to let Gillian get past them, and she knew that if she and the king tried to walk around them, they'd block them.

The rest of the king's soldiers stood in the background
with their hands on the hilt of their swords, watching and waiting for John's command.

The lairds seemed impervious to the soldiers, and Gillian was frantic with worry for their safety.

“Stand down,” John ordered.

“My lord, may my husband accompany us on our walk?” Gillian asked softly. “I have not seen him in a long while, and I would be happy for his company.”

“You would?” John asked, grinning once again. “He doesn't look too happy to see you, Gillian. None of them do,” he added. “In fact your laird wears the expression of a husband who would like to beat his wife.”

“Oh, no, he would never do such a thing,” she assured him. “No matter how angry he becomes, he would not even think about hurting me. They are honorable men, all of them.”

John stopped directly in front of Brodick, tilted his head back so he could look into the giant's eyes, and said, “You wife wishes you to accompany us on our stroll.”

Brodick didn't say a word, but he moved back so that John and Gillian could walk past. Her hand brushed his, a deliberate touch she couldn't resist.

She knew he was right behind her now, and she was tormented with conflicting emotions. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him how sorry she was because she had put him in such danger, yet at the same time she wanted to shout at him because he had lied to her and placed revenge above his own safety.

Desperate to protect him, she prayed for God's help. The king let go of her arm, and they walked side by side across the barren courtyard. She saw Horace select three men, and her uneasiness intensified. She wished that John hadn't granted Alford's request.

Alford's soldiers fell into stride behind the king. Brodick stayed behind her, his back vulnerable to attack, and her panic became nearly uncontrollable.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw another group of Alford's men rushing up the steps into the castle. John drew her attention then when he asked, “Where are you leading me?”

“We're going to the old stable, my lord. It's directly behind the new building Alford built after he seized control of Dunhanshire.”

“Why didn't his men simply tear down the old when they put up the new?”

“Superstition,” she answered.

“Explain what you mean, and while you're at it, tell me how you determined where the treasure was hidden.”

Gillian began with the night her father was killed and finished her story just as they reached the dilapidated barn.

At the king's command, one of the soldiers ran to fetch a torch. John questioned Gillian while they waited. “You still haven't explained what you meant about superstition,” he reminded her.

“After Ector became crazed, the soldiers feared him, and my lady's maid told me that every time he would walk past, the soldiers would drop to their knees and make the sign of the cross to ward off his evil. She saw them do it countless times,” she added. “The soldiers feared that Ector had the power to snatch their minds and make them as crazed as he was. Liese also told me the men believed that Ector was possessed by the Devil, himself, and for that reason they didn't dare touch him or touch anything that belonged to him. Ector roamed the land during the day and slept in the corner of the stable at night.”

“You paint my soldiers as superstitious fools, but if
you're correct in your guess, their fear kept my Arianna's treasure safe for me all these many years.”

The soldier returned with the burning torch, and John motioned for him to go inside first. Gillian was suddenly so filled with trepidation she couldn't get her legs to move.
Dear God, please, please let the box be there
.

She felt Brodick's hand on her shoulder, and she swayed back against him. She stayed there for no more than a second or two, but that was all the comfort she needed, and then she straightened and followed the king inside.

She could see specks of dust spinning in the bolts of fading gray sunlight filtering in through the holes in the rafters. The light wouldn't have been sufficient without the aid of the torch. The air was as stale as death and smelled of mold and mildew, which grew stronger with each step she took.

The king stopped when he reached the center of the corridor and motioned for her to take the lead.

“It's in the corner,” she said as she hurried past him. She kept her attention on the floor now. It was cluttered with decaying flats of wood and nails.

When she passed the last stall, she slowly turned to look in the corner, and then she cried out. There it was, Ector's knapsack, still hanging from the hook on the wall.

“Shall we see if the treasure is inside?” John whispered.

He moved forward with Gillian at his side and lifted the filthy knapsack from the hook, and shoving the rubble out of his way with the side of his foot, he knelt down on the floor.

The soldier, Horace, called out to him, “Is the treasure there, my lord?”

The king didn't answer. “Do you see how my hands are trembling?” he whispered to Gillian as he gently turned the
knapsack over and let the contents pour out onto the floor. An old rusty, iron hinge spilled out first, and then stones of various shapes rolled out. A clump of dirt splattered, and a cracked wooden cup splintered in half when it struck the ground. The king shouted. A dirty piece of wool wrapped into a ball dropped onto his knees. As he unfolded the cloth, a man's tunic took shape, and when the last fold was turned over, the jewels atop the magnificent box glinted up at them.

Tears flooded John's eyes, and he was filled with memories of his sweet Arianna. Lost for the moment in the past, his head bowed, he mourned anew the death of his true love.

“My lord, is the treasure there?” Horace shouted again.

The king was too overwhelmed with emotion to notice the soldier's impertinence and insolent tone.

Brodick had noticed and was in the process of turning around so that his back was to his wife and the king when Horace gave the other soldiers a signal with his hand. His three cohorts quickly fanned out to form a half circle in front of Brodick. The only thing between them and the king of England was the Highlander, and fools that they were, they actually believed the odds were in their favor.

Brodick knew exactly what their plan was. His voice was low and filled with loathing when he said, “Your king is unarmed.”

John, still down on his knees, looked up as the soldiers drew their swords. His eyes widened in disbelief, and for an instant he thought that the Highlander was in some way threatening him. Then he saw that Brodick's hands were still at his sides and his sword still sheathed. Where, then, lurked the threat that would make the soldiers draw their weapons?

Forgetting for the moment the treasure, John stood. “Where is the danger?” he demanded.

The soldiers remained silent.

“Gillian, tell your king his soldiers mean to kill him,” Brodick said.

The leader of the soldiers smiled. “And we will be honored for our deed. Aye, we mean to kill you, John, and the Highlander and his wife as well.” Nodding to Brodick, he added, “You'll be blamed of course.”

John reached for his sword and only then realized he was defenseless.

“One shout from me and my men will come running.”

Horace snickered. “You'll be dead before they get here.”

Brodick shook his head. “I cannot allow you to kill your king because it would upset my wife, and you sure as hell aren't going to get near her. Have I made my intentions clear?”

They came at him all at once, and that error in judgment gave Brodick an added advantage. In their haste to get him, they stumbled into one another.

Moving with the speed of a predator, he became a blur to the men trying to kill him. They saw only the silver gleam of his sword and heard the whistling sound as the warrior swung it downward. His blade cut through two soldiers as he lashed out with his foot and broke the arm of another soldier, knocking him to the ground. He then arched back to avoid the last soldier's blade and, twisting, slammed his elbow into the man's face, shattering his jaw.

Gillian had grabbed hold of the king's arm and tried to pull him back out of harm's way, but John in a burst of true gallantry wouldn't retreat. He pushed her behind him and shielded her.

Before she could summon a good scream, two soldiers lay dead at Brodick's feet and the two others were doubled over in pain. Brodick wasn't even winded. He casually
wiped his blade on one of the dead to rid it of English blood, then slipped the weapon back into the sheath and turned around. He couldn't hide his surprise at finding the king protecting his wife.

John was stunned. He stared at the traitors, then looked at Brodick. “Four against one,” he hoarsely whispered. “Most impressive, Laird.”

Brodick shrugged. “You've yet to see impressive.”

A fire from a dropped torch crackled in the debris behind them as the king once again got down on his knees and gently lifted the treasure with both hands. Cautiously he pressed in sequence the hidden springs, and the box snapped open. For a long silent moment he simply stared down at what was inside.