Highland Conqueror (17 page)

“If he does, then why has he allowed us to stay here?”

“Because you have a powerful family and powerful friends. He knows you could cause him a great deal of trouble and you simply are not worth it. But, I begin to think he is wrong. I think you have no more powerful friends or kinsmen. After all, if you did, and you truly wanted Sigimor, you would try and use them to get him for you. Or, get someone richer. You would not be forced to play such demeaning games if you had rich kin to go to.”

“Pious fools, the lot of them!” Barbara snapped. “I did as they wanted, married that disgusting old mon and gave him his heir. And what is my reward? Naught! That old fool left me naught! I dinnae e’en have a roof o’er my head. Oh, the old fool left me a wee hovel, a pitiful place surrounded by sheep, and a pittance to survive on. Do my kinsmen help me? Nay! They have called me a whore, an embarrassment, a stain upon their name! They have all closed their doors to me! Oh, they will pay for that, mark my words. They
will
pay.”

Jolene forced herself to remain calm as she watched Barbara rant, then fall into a sullen, brooding silence. If Barbara did manage to find some fool to marry her, she would undoubtedly try to use him to avenge her. In some ways, the woman was much like Harold. She obviously did not see that she had brought this all upon herself.

“And the money Harold has promised to pay for the two of ye will certainly help,” Barbara said suddenly and smiled, her anger and dark mood disappearing with a disturbing suddenness.

“If you are putting your faith in Harold to keep his word, then you are a fool,” said Jolene.

“The mon and I have an understanding. I give him what he wants and I get what I want—money and a clear path to Sigimor. What Harold is giving me will keep me quite comfortable until I can get Sigimor before a priest.”

“The only way you will get Sigimor before a priest is if he is attending your
funeral. And, if you are putting your trust in Harold, that is a distinct possibility.”

“Oh, ye are so tiresome. Harold willnae betray us. We are already quite close. If he wasnae an Englishmon, I would consider him a good choice for a husband. He would certainly understand my need to avenge the insult I have suffered.” She tied her cloak on and tugged the hood over her hair. “We had best be on our way. I want to be back here by the time Sigimor returns.”

“Just how do you plan to get out of here?”

“Why Clyde has found a bolthole. All keeps have them and Clyde is verra good at sniffing them out. Finds one where’er we go. Found Harold a good place to hide, too. I am sure it has amused him to ken that the Camerons are hunting him everywhere with no success.”

Barbara went to the fireplace, turned a strange carving at the far edge of the mantel, and an opening in the thick stone wall slowly appeared. Clyde grabbed a torch from the wall sconce next to the fireplace, and, with his knife at Reynard’s small back, nudged the boy ahead of him into the gloomy passageway. Smiling sweetly, Barbara waved Jolene to follow him. Knowing she had no choice, Jolene started toward the doorway set deep in the wall. She paused just inside, however, as Barbara grabbed a candle then frowned at Donald who had not made any move to join her.

“Weel? Come along,” she ordered her cousin. “We are wasting time.”

“Nay, I will stay here,” said Donald, his eyes looking brilliant against his ashen face.

“Why?”

“Because this is as far as I will go in this.”

“If ye betray me, Donald, ye will pay for it.”

“Oh, aye, I ken it. I understand now exactly what ye are capable of, Cousin. Have no fear of that.”

“Good, I mean it. If Sigimor asks ye where his wife has gone, ye had best say nothing. Swear it?”

“I swear it. If Sigimor asks me that, I willnae say a word. I will leave the lies to you. Ye are better at it.”

“Weel, of course I am. Ye were ne’er as good as I am.” Barbara turned to glare at Jolene. “Move. I cannae be gone too long.”

Jolene cast one last look at Donald then headed down the passageway. A moment later she heard Barbara follow her. It was as dark and narrow as the one she had used to flee Drumwich and Harold. She thought it a little ironic to be taking a similar route right back into the danger she had escaped from.

Donald rose and shut the passageway, then rested his forehead against the cool stone. After a moment, he moved back to his seat by the table and returned to his carving. Barbara had gone too far this time. He would wait. The Camerons would return soon. He was confident one of them would stumble on the way to get him to tell them what he knew without his having to break his vow to Barbara. He just hoped he survived the confrontation. He was almost certain that Barbara would not survive the one she was headed toward.

“I think the mon has gone back to England,” said Somerled as he tossed aside the cloth he had just used to dry himself off, and reached for his clean clothes.

Sigimor sighed as he rubbed his hair dry and glanced around at the men who had ridden with him today. They were all crowded into the large bathing shed he had had built a few years ago just for this purpose, the sudden arrival of nearly a score of filthy men all anxious to clean the mud off. Every one of them was waiting for his response to Somerled’s words. The fact that they could find no sign of Harold and his men after two days did seem to imply that the man had finally given up.

“Nay,” he said, “I dinnae think he has.” He hung his drying cloth on one of the many hooks on the wall and started to get dressed. “He has gone to ground.”

“Then we should have found him. We ken this land better than he does.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean he couldnae have stumbled upon a good hiding place. There are a lot about.” He looked at his twin and shrugged. “I cannae explain it, but I am that certain that he is out there, and close.”

“Had a vision, did ye, Sigimor?” called out his brother Ranulph.

Sigimor nodded in silent agreement as Tait and Nanty threw Ranulph into one of the many large vats used for bathing. “I just think that a mon who has been hunting us so hard, who rode away from and thus risks losing what he has already killed to gain, isnae going to tuck his tail between his legs and slink home now.”

“Nay, probably not,” Somerled agreed reluctantly as he started out of the shed beside Sigimor. “Tis just a wee bit humiliating that we cannae seem to find an enemy hiding on our own lands.”

“I ken it.” Sigimor felt himself tense as Fergus came running out of the keep. “What is it, lad?” he asked when the boy stumbled to a halt in front of him. Fergus’s freckles stood out brilliantly against the linen-pale color of his face.

“They are gone!” Fergus grabbed Sigimor by the arm and tugged him toward the keep. “Jolene and Reynard are gone! They went to speak to that woman and now they are gone.”

A chill entered Sigimor’s veins. For a moment he could do no more than allow Fergus to pull him along. It was not until they were inside the keep and he saw an equally pale Old Nancy on the stairs that he gained some control of his shock.

“Are ye sure they are gone?” he asked her.

“Aye, m’laird,” she replied. “Both her and the boy. Aye, as weel as Lady Barbara and one of her pretty pets, that mon Clyde. Her cousin is still here, but he willnae answer our questions.”

Sigimor raced up the stairs and headed straight for Barbara’s chambers. He could hear the others following him, but he did not wait for them to catch up. When he burst into Barbara’s room, he looked around and felt that chill of fear grow even worse. The only one in the room was Donald. He sat at a table near the fire working on a small carving. Then, to Sigimor’s confused astonishment, the young man smiled at him

“Tis about time ye got here,” Donald said. “Ye are a wee bit late in returning.”

“Where is my wife?” he demanded as Donald carefully set the piece he had been carving in the center of the table.

“Ah, now, I cannae answer
that
question.”

“Ye will if ye wish to leave here in one piece.”

“Oh, aye, I want that verra much. Verra much. Tis why I sit here. I but await ye to ask the right question.”

Sigimor forced his anger down, as well as the sense of desperation he felt. Donald
was not really defying him, he realized. In fact, he had the distinct feeling the young man was hoping he could help. There was a key to unlock the truth, but Sigimor was not in the mood for puzzles or in a state of mind to work one out. As Fergus, Old Nancy, and Somerled gathered around him, Sigimor took several slow, deep breaths to grasp at a thin thread of calm.

“Where has Lady Barbara gone?” he asked, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, but, to his surprise, the younger man smiled again.

“Now that is a question I
can
answer. I fear she has taken the Lady Jolene and the boy to this mon Harold.” Donald pressed himself back in his seat as Sigimor took several steps toward him. “I told her it was wrong, e’en warned her against the mon.”

“But ye did naught to stop her, did ye?”

“Nay. I thought I could change her mind right up until your wife and the boy entered the room. Once it all began, I suddenly realized that I couldnae trust in Barbara to e’en let me live, that there was a strong chance she would have Clyde cut my throat if I tried to stop her or betray her to you. Harold has promised her a veritable fortune. She truly believes he will honor his word and that she can then just slip back here to woo ye. They have gone to the catacombs.”

Sigimor looked at Somerled when his brother cursed. “I thought they were sealed up.”

“Liam and I recently opened them.” Somerled shrugged. “Curiosity. They have been sealed since our father was a lad.”

“But, how did Lady Barbara and Clyde leave without being seen? The church where those catacombs are is three miles away, at least.”

Sigimor suddenly noticed how Donald kept playing with the little figure he had carved and cursed as he turned his gaze toward the matching figure on the corner of the fireplace. “I had forgotten about the bolthole.” He looked back at Donald. “How long ago did Lady Barbara leave?”

“About two hours ago and on foot. M’laird!” Donald cried out when Sigimor started to leave.

Slowly, Sigimor turned to face the man again. “Do ye ken how badly I want to kill ye?”

“Aye, I think I do.”

“Then why are ye still here?”

“I wait to take Barbara’s body home,” he replied softly.

Bile stung the back of Jolene’s throat as she stared down at the bodies of Clyde and Lady Barbara, unable to look away. She had never seen anyone killed so quickly and coldly. Barbara had been blissfully unaware of her danger right up to the end. There had been an odd look upon Clyde’s face in the heartbeat of time between his realizing that someone had stepped up behind him and having his throat cut. He had given Harold a look that could only be called admiring. In that last instant of life the man had done one good thing, however. He had shoved Reynard toward Jolene. She had caught her nephew and quickly cocooned him within her skirts to shield him from the sight of the abrupt execution.

When the two men who had done the killing started to drag the bodies away, she finally looked at Harold. “You will soon run out of allies if that is how you treat them.”

“They sold you and the boy to me. Next they would have sold me to the Camerons,” Harold said and shrugged.

“So you judged them guilty of a crime before they had e’en committed it?”

“The woman was determined to become the lady of that accursed keep no civilized tongue can pronounce the name of. She would have done anything to get Sir Sigimor to marry her. She betrayed him to me to be rid of you. To win his favor, she would have betrayed me.” He scowled at the two bodies now thrown atop each other in the far corner of the large chamber. “It troubles me that that young cousin of hers did not come, too.”

Jolene slowly rubbed the back of a faintly trembling Reynard and wondered if Donald had guessed what would happen, had somehow sensed the danger of dealing with Harold. “How disappointing for you.”

“We will leave here as soon as it gets dark,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “I have not yet decided what to do with you, but I think I can use the boy to buy me something. My life for his. Our kinsmen will be eager to get him back safe and alive. I fear you will not be so blessed.” He looked around. “An excellent hiding place, is it not? That fellow Clyde found it. We have sat here snug, dry, and safe whilst the Camerons have exhausted themselves and their horses hunting for us.”

“Clyde was duly impressed by your show of gratitude, I am certain.” She looked around what was obviously the main burial chamber in what she suspected were some very old catacombs. “I wonder why Sigimor did not think to look here.”

“Martin believes they have only recently been unsealed and after a very long time, too.”

“M’lord,” said Martin as he strode up to Harold, “I have a message from your kinsmen.”

“We were not to make any contact with them until the morrow.”

“They caught one of the men we had sent to watch them and gave it to him to deliver.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“They ask for a meeting, m’lord. Your kinsman Sir Roger sends his greetings and requests that you or a man of your choosing meet with him on the morrow.”

“Where and when?”

“’Bout two miles south from here, at a clearing. One hour after dawn. Tis easy to find. But a few yards from here you can begin to see the top of an old peel tower. Head
straight for that and you enter the clearing.”

“How many men does he have?” Harold asked after frowning in thought for a moment.

“A score,” replied Martin, “and two Scots. I think they might be MacFingals. They have the look of those bastards. They were the ones who caught our man.”

Harold cursed and dragged his hand through his hair. “I must needs think on this. Is a reply requested?”

“Nay. Your reply will be if you come to the meeting.”

Nodding, Harold suddenly glared at Jolene. “Take that sniveling brat and go sit down somewhere. I need to think.”

More than happy to get away from Harold, Jolene picked Reynard up and sought a place to sit down. She moved away from the bodies of Barbara and her companion toward a large stone coffin set against the far wall. After a moment of thought, she sat down at the end of it, her back against the wall, putting herself and Reynard into the shadows. Jolene watched as Harold paced. She held Reynard close and hoped that whatever held Harold’s attention so firmly did so for a long time.

Cousin Roger was close, she thought, and let the joy of that news wash over her. Jolene felt certain that would give Reynard a chance. With the opportunity to trade Reynard’s life for his so close at hand, she was certain Harold would grab it. There was little chance he would hold to any agreement he might make, but at least Reynard would be taken out of the hands of his enemy. She was certain Roger would do what was needed to make Harold give him the boy.

She forced herself to ignore her own possible fate. Jolene knew that, if she let herself start wondering about what Harold might do to her, she would quickly lose her already tenuous control of the fear inside her. She needed to be brave for Reynard’s sake, to try to remain calm, and that meant ignoring her place in Harold’s dark plans. Sigimor would be looking for her soon, she told herself, and clutched at that hope like a shield against Harold and her own fears.

To keep herself from thinking on what she would soon face if she did not get away from Harold, she listened carefully to what was being said. Neither Martin nor Harold bothered to speak quietly and their voices carried well in the chamber. Harold’s anger, she noticed, was no longer so well controlled.

“The boy will buy us our freedom, m’lord,” said Martin.

“Aye, aye, but if I could get him back to Drumwich myself, there is still a chance I could gain control. The boy is the key to it all, Martin,” Harold snapped when Martin shook his head.

“The only thing that boy is the key to now is our freedom. Sir Roger has a score of men with him. Since he also has two MacFingals with him, and they are not trying to steal his horses, that means he is being aided by the allies of the Camerons. They have brought him here to join with the Camerons against us. I am thinking that means Sir Roger knows everything and might well have some power behind him. Ransom the boy, for our freedom, for our lives, and, mayhap, for whatever coin the man is carrying.”

“And then what? Where will we go?”

“France or some other country where we can sell our swords.” Martin watched Harold pace some more. “And you might consider ransoming the woman as well.”

“Never!” Harold yelled. “She is the reason we are in this mess! She has ruined
everything and I want to make her pay for that. I want to make her suffer for it.” He searched the chamber until he saw Jolene and glared at her. “You married that Scot.”

“How did you discover that?” she asked.

“The priest. We followed you there,” Harold replied, moving closer, clenching and unclenching his fists. “He told us after a little persuasion loosened his tongue. Aye, and he paid dearly for his part in that, as you will.”

“You killed a priest?” Jolene was surprised that anything Harold did could still shock her, but this did.

“Nay. At least, he was not dead when we left him, although he was probably wishing he was.”

“That priest is a Cameron, Harold,” she said and heard Martin curse. “A cousin. You have just given them e’en more reason to hunt you down. You will probably be able to use Reynard to deal with Sir Roger, but the Camerons will hunt you all the way to the sea.” Harold looked unmoved by her threat, but she noticed Martin narrow his eyes in thought.

“Why should that trouble me? They have been no threat thus far. They do naught but run from us, and hide.”

“Aye, and have led you right to their gates, led you deep into their lands, amidst their allies and kinsmen.”

Harold lunged at her, and, to her surprise, Martin grabbed him. For a few minutes the two men staggered around the chamber as Harold cursed and threatened Martin, but, despite the blows he took, Martin did not let go. Finally, Harold grew still. Martin slowly released him and stepped back. Harold drew his sword and held it on Martin so quickly, Jolene gasped. She put her hand to the back of Reynard’s head and kept his face pressed against her, certain murder was about to be done. Either Martin had more confidence in his worth to Harold than she did, or, for his own reasons, he refused to draw a sword on the man, for he just stood there. Then she caught the glint of a knife’s blade by his hip and realized the man held a knife in his hand. She knew Martin could deliver a mortal wound with that before Harold could make good use of his sword. All the men stood tensely, watching, and Jolene had the strong feeling that their loyalty lay more with Martin than with Harold.

“You would defend the little bitch?” Harold asked in a voice hoarse with fury.

“For now,” replied Martin. “If naught else, she holds the boy and he must not be harmed.”

Harold shuddered faintly and closed his eyes, then slowly resheathed his sword. “I will deal with her later.”

Martin nodded and his knife disappeared. “If you wish. You might also consider the possibility of using her to keep the Camerons from slaughtering us.” There was the whisper of agreement from the other men in the chamber.

“The Camerons? They are no real threat. They have done nothing but run from us, have ne’er e’en tried to face us or fight us.”

“Not yet.” Martin watched Harold until the man began to frown, obviously considering Martin’s words. “There were but six of them and they had her and the boy with them. It might have seemed cowardly to some that they did naught but elude us, but I did not see it thus. It was clever and the right choice of tactic. She is right. We are now deep in their lands, surrounded by his kinsmen and his allies. We are now the ones
outnumbered, the ones hiding from the hunters.”

Jolene looked around at the men in the chamber who all watched Harold closely. It was very clear to see that they all agreed with Martin and waited to see if Harold would as well. They understood that they had been caught in an ever tightening net and they wanted out of it. She strongly suspected that, if Harold did not begin to show that he had more interest in getting out of the trap alive than in revenge, he would find himself without any swords to call to his aid. Jolene smothered the sudden hope that a rebellion in the ranks could offer her a chance to escape, but she still watched closely for one.

“And, I suppose you have some plan?” Harold asked, mockery weighting every word.

“Aye, I do,” replied Martin, ignoring the taunt. “We use the boy to get the English swords sheathed and we use her to get us safely out of this cursed country.” Martin sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “She is Sir Sigimor’s wife. If naught else, honor will demand that he do whate’er he must to protect her and keep her alive. Between ransoming the boy to the English and her to the Scots, we may yet come out of this tangle with a heavy purse. At least we have a chance of coming out of this alive. Study this as I do; the only other choice I see is that we try to at least make it a little difficult for them to slaughter us.”

A faint sound plucked at Jolene’s attention, but she fought to ignore it. What was happening between Martin and Harold was too important to miss. Her fate was in the balance here. She knew Harold needed to make her pay for all he had lost, for the failure of all his plots, but, if Martin convinced him that she could be of use to them, her chance of survival rose. She silently prayed for Harold to heed Martin’s advice, to hold her as a shield between them and the Camerons until they could reach a port and flee to France. The thought of spending days as Harold’s captive was a chilling one, but she would be alive, and she knew that Sigimor would come after her.

Sigimor gently lowered to the ground the body of the man he had just killed and then scowled at the old church. Beneath the slowly crumbling building was Jolene. She had been in Harold’s hands for an hour, maybe even longer. The thought of what that man might have already done to her had his stomach twisted in knots. It took all of his willpower, and the occasional watchful presence of Liam, to stop himself from simply racing down to the burial chambers screaming for Harold’s blood.

From the moment Fergus had told him Jolene was gone, he had felt cold with fear, a fear for her. Even more so, a fear of losing her, of not being able to save her. It was almost impossible to keep his mind from conjuring up grim images of what Harold had said he would do to her. He kept hearing the man speak of his plans for her. Logic told him that Harold could not accomplish much in the time he had had, but Sigimor was not having much success at remaining logical at the moment. It also only took an instant to kill someone, his mind kept whispering to him.

“The guards are all cleared away, inside and out,” said Liam as he stepped up next to Sigimor.

“Aye,” said Somerled as he moved to stand on Sigimor’s other side. “Those two Scots fled for the hills, didnae e’en warn these men.”

“No honor amongst thieves,” murmured Tait, crouching by the body of the man Sigimor had killed and studying him closely. “Hired swords, I think. If we can get the
ones below cornered or surrounded, they might well surrender.”

“How do we get in?” Sigimor asked, knowing that concentrating on the battle ahead of them was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Three ways,” replied Liam. “There were guards at the opening of only two so I think we can safely assume they dinnae ken about the third.”

“Mayhap one of those swift-footed Scots was supposed to guard it.”

“Nay. They had been set out to watch for us, probably to warn Harold if our search drew too close to them. When we headed straight here, moving with some stealth, they realized that we were nay longer searching and decided the game was lost. Decided to leave the Sassenachs to their fate and save their own necks. Our plan?”

“Tell me where the entrances are and where ye think Harold will have set up his little refuge.”

Sigimor closed his eyes and listened carefully, relaxing a little when Liam and Somerled both said there was only one chamber below where Harold and his men could camp in any comfort. After a moment’s thought, he began to disperse the nearly thirty men with him, seven through each entrance and the rest to stay above and make sure none of Harold’s men escaped, as well as to stand guard at their backs. They decided on how much time would be needed for each group to get into position and Sigimor chose a signal to annouce the attack. Nanty stayed above with the guards, Somerled took six men to the main entrance inside the church, Liam took six more to the hidden inside entrance, and Sigimor took six to the outside entrance only feet away from the man he had killed.