Highland Lover: Book 3 Scottish Knights Trilogy (41 page)

Seeing how swiftly and easily Mungo’s men-at-arms disarmed hers and locked them in the tower dungeon, Alyson decided that compliance might provide her only defense. Pretending she yielded not to Mungo but to Niall’s persuasions, she promised to stay in her bedchamber while the men gathered in her great hall.

Mungo looked skeptical, but Niall reassured him. “Allie never lies, sir. If she says she’ll stay in her room, she will.”

“She’d better,” Mungo said. “Can this place accommodate my men?”

“Not without notice,” Alyson said. “They can camp in our woods by the river, but they must look after their horses and cook their own food. The kitchen
can
feed up to a score, if you want to feed your commanders. But it will take time to produce even a light supper for that many.” Without another word, she went upstairs, cudgeling her mind for a plan.

She had been alone for a quarter hour when she heard the latch softly click. As she looked up, the door opened to reveal Will at the threshold.

Putting a finger to his lips, he stepped in and shut the door. “I feared ye might ha’ bolted it,” he confided, grinning.

“Mungo would break it down if I did. How did you find me here?”

“I hung about after ye flapped your hand at me, so I saw Mungo go into the room wi’ Malcolm and come out without him is how. I found Malcolm on the floor and thought he were dead. But he moved, so I ran down tae the kitchen and told ’em he were hurt. Then I got me a horse from the stable and followed ye. Sithee, it were easy tae follow so many horses.”

“I’m glad you did, because you can help me,” she said. “I want you to go down to the kitchen. Are the men still in the hall?”

“Aye, sure. There be a score o’ them a-talking in there and more outside.”

“Well, don’t let them see you. The kitchen is below the hall. Tell the cook that I’m here against my will and to send for our people hereabouts to meet in the yard as soon as they can with as many men and weapons as they can bring. And tell Cook to send a pair of mounted men to the road leading into the Highlands. I have kinsmen coming, who may be near enough to help us. I don’t have a plan yet, Will, but I’m thinking. Sakes, if our people can help me get away…”

“I’ll tell ’em, aye. I told Malcolm and them at the house that them villains took ye. And I tellt ’em, too, tae send some’un straightaway for Cap’n Jake.”

Alyson’s heart sang, and the calm Jake could instill in her with a touch enveloped her like a warm blanket. Too soon, though, common sense and memory of his slumped body warned her that Will might draw Jake right into a deathtrap.

A steady buzz of solemn masculine conversation greeted Jake and Ranald when they entered the alehouse. The alemaster bustled to greet them.

“I’ve nae table for ye,” he said. “But ye be gey welcome tae me ale. I’ll warn ye, though, ’tis a sad day for Scotland.”

“What has happened?” Jake asked.

“His grace is dead.”

Although he’d half-expected the news, Jake felt a rush of sorrow, for Jamie as much as for his sire.

“When?” he asked.

“Yestereve or this morning, depending who tells it. They say the Duke o’ Albany ha’ sent men tae Perth and
be gathering more tae take there wi’ him. The chaps he sent tae warn the Blackfriars tae expect him stopped in for a dram. They said the King signed a letter tae Parliament two days ago, recommending Albany as Governor again. ’Tis likely they’ll name him tae govern for Jamie now.”

“How soon does Albany leave?”

“Sakes, he could be on his horse whiles we talk,” the alemaster said.

Jake said, “We’ll have ale and cheese, and be on our way.”

When the man left, Ranald said, “Sakes, the King is dead? Does that mean Albany will become King of Scots?”

“Not yet, it doesn’t,” Jake said. “Jamie is King now.”

“He’s nobbut a lad,” Ranald said. “He cannot rule the country.”

“Nay, and you heard the man. Albany has a letter from his grace, so doubtless Parliament will name him to rule for James.”

“I never thought to ask you why we’re going to Stirling,” Ranald said.

“It is not important now. We’re going back.”

“But—”

“If you must know, I was going to Rothesay from Stirling. I said nowt of that because I’m not sure how much to trust you. I was to see his grace.”

“Sakes, have you
met
him?”

“Nay, but I had a message for him.”

“What was it?”

“It does not matter anymore, because things are as they are. We’re turning back. If we go at once, I can be with my lass when she goes to bed.”

“Sakes, we’ve come at least twenty miles on these horses,” Ranald protested. “They’ll be weary by now, as am I.”

“We haven’t pushed them, and we won’t. If you don’t want to go back, ask the alemaster to put you up here for the night.”

In the tower stableyard, with dusk approaching, Alyson studied the expectant faces of MacGillivray men that the cook’s lads had collected, and tried to think. She could not get to her men in the dungeon, and too few stood before her. She feared that if Mungo strode into their midst and began issuing orders, they’d obey him.

They stood silent, wary. With two exceptions, they looked eager to support her, but she knew she could lose them all if she misspoke.

Beside her, Will shuffled his feet but, wisely, did not speak.

Seeking inspiration, her gaze alit on a small stack of peat with two shovels stuck into it. It reminded her of peat squares flying from horses’ hooves, and the forest of pikes and lances in her nightmare. When she recalled next the monk-high stacks she’d seen at Lindores Abbey, a possibility suggested itself. Numerous tall stacks of drying peat, future fuel for the tower’s fires, stood nearby.

“I need your help,” she said at last, hoping her voice would carry to her men without drawing attention from inside the tower. “Braehead Tower is mine,” she added. “I think you know how much you all mean to me and my family, but a man has come who would seize Braehead for himself. I want to stop him. I must tell you, though; he is a
close friend of Niall Clyne’s. You all ken fine by now that I married Niall. So, doubtless, you also know, thanks to the speed at which such news travels, that we were sailing to France when English pirates sank our ship.”

She paused, saw nodding heads, and continued. “They captured Niall and others but left me to drown. A knight named Jacob Maxwell, who saw us sinking from his much smaller ship, rescued me and this lad beside me. When we learned that the pirates had thrown most of our men overboard, keeping only those who could pay ransom, we believed Niall had drowned.” Briefly, even glibly, she explained that the Papal Legate had deemed her marriage false, annulled it, and married her to Jake to protect her estates and reputation.

“I won’t try to persuade you to think aught about what I’ve told you save what your conscience dictates,” she added. “Forbye, Niall and Sir Kentigern want to seize control of Braehead because they choose to believe that my marriage settlements granted this estate and Ardloch to Niall.”

“But that canna be,” one man said. “The laird wouldna put our land out o’ the family, nor awa’ from Clan MacGillivray. He’ll tell them so.”

“He would, Gibby, but they’d ignore him,” Alyson said. “I told them that the estates form the principal part of my tocher and never belonged to Niall. But Sir Kentigern says that by Crown authority my estates will
become
Niall’s and that they plan to train men-at-arms here for the Crown.”

“For the Crown, eh?” Gibby said. “But his grace be at Rothesay and wouldna thrust hisself betwixt his people and their lands. Forbye, the men wha’ came wi’ them thieves today said
they’d
come from Stirling.”

Another man said, “We ken fine who
does
seize lands. Sakes, he makes a habit o’ stealing ’em from women when he can, and he
is
in Stirling. I’d wager me best bull the villain claiming such authority be yon wicked duke, Albany.”

Muttered assent came from others in her audience.

Alyson said, “What matters now is that we’re too few to muster a strong defense. Sir Jacob is away, but we’ve sent for him, and he will bring more men. Also, kinsmen, including Shaw MacGillivray, war leader of Clan Chattan, will—”

“
How
was your marriage tae Clyne a false one?” a man shouted. She recognized the voice.

“Those details, Rab Barty, don’t concern you,” she said. “The Papal Legate has authority to undo an improper marriage and perform a proper one. By Kirk law, it is as if the Pope himself unmarried me from Niall and married me to Sir Jacob. Now, all of you,” she said when no one else spoke up. “The villains are at supper in the woods and in the hall, but if they get warning of approaching riders, they’ll swiftly arm themselves. I need your help and advice to prevent them from doing so or at least to give them pause until help arrives. Let me tell you what I propose.”

The men remained silent.

“Regard that peat pile yonder,” she said, gesturing. “To me, those two shovel handles sticking up might, in poor light, be mistaken for pikes or lances.”

“They may look so, mistress, but we’ve few men tae speak of, and that wee pile o’ peat doesna look like one man, let alone a host o’ armed ones,” Gibby said.

“Aye, but the peat stacks yonder by the woods
are
tall
enough,” she replied, gesturing again. “If we shift them into woodland shadows and stick every tool we have with a long handle into them, can we not make them look as if we have a small army of men poorly concealed there? After all, we need fool only Mungo, Niall, and the men-at-arms they brought with them.”

“We heard that they expect more tae come,” Gibby said.

“Sir Kentigern lies, so if he said he
expects
more, it is likely an empty threat, and we need keep him at bay only until help arrives. If he and his men take over tonight and their reinforcements come before ours do, Braehead is lost.”

Gibby said doubtfully, “We might make it work, m’lady, but just for the night. And only if the moon be late rising or them clouds can hide it. Also, if they see what we be a-doing afore we get set and full darkness comes… Sithee—”

“I know,” she said. “But if it
might
work…”

“It willna serve past dawn,” he warned.

“I ha’ me doots it’ll serve at all,” pessimist Rab Barty declared.

“Aye, well, ye’ll shut your gob and do as ye’re bid, Rab,” Gibby warned, “or ye’ll answer tae me.”

“That’s tellin’ ’im,” Will muttered.

“Shhh,” Alyson murmured back. Aloud, she said, “I’ll leave it to you to make those stacks look like our army, because I must get back inside before they miss me. Will, you may stay and help them or come with me, as you choose.”

“I’d best go wi’ ye,” Will said. “Sir Jake said I should watch over ye, and I dinna trust them two deevils inside as far as I could spit ’em.”

As they crossed the inner yard to approach the tower entrance, she saw men emerging. Enough light lingered for her to see Will slip a hand under his jerkin.

“If you’ve hidden a dirk, don’t touch it,” she said. “Niall is with them. He won’t let anyone hurt us.”

“I dinna trust him any more than t’other ’un,” Will said darkly.

“Well, I do,” Alyson said, hoping she
could
trust Niall and wondering if she’d ever really known him.