Justice and Michael were close on his heels as he strode into the hall, grabbed one terrified girl by the arm before she could flee, and demanded that she tell him the way to the dungeons. She fled the moment she told him what he needed to know, and Gabel eased his grip on her arm just enough so that she could wriggle free. As he drew near to the door hiding the stairs which led down into the underbelly of the keep, Gabel’s pace increased, and he began to suffer a few doubts. Finding Ainslee simply could not be this easy.
The darkness and the damp chill he felt as he descended the stairs added to Gabel’s fears for her safety, as well as his fury at MacNairn. Ainslee had never done anything to deserve such a punishment. Disappointment stabbed sharply at his heart when he found the dungeons empty, but he was not really surprised. There had to be someone at Kengarvey with the kindness to set her free once the battle had turned against the MacNairns and the chances of MacNairn remaining the laird were very slim.
“But now I must find the wench ere her enemies do so,” he muttered, and lightly slammed his fist against the iron bars.
“She is a clever woman, Gabel,” Justice said. “She must have fled the keep.”
“She is also afraid for her people and, despite how little they have done to help her through the years, she will do her best to try and help them.”
“Then she would make her way to the bailey, for she would be seeking you out, knowing that you will hold to your promise to save as many of her people as you are able to.”
“And she will be walking into the midst of a battle, chaos, and within the reach of dozens of men eager to kill her,” Gabel said as he started back up the stairs.
“Remember the woman you seek, cousin.” Justice followed Gabel and paused only to glare at Michael, whose ascent up the stairs was dangerously loud. “Ainslee MacNairn would have gotten her weapons together the moment she was free to do so, and she knows well how to use them.”
Gabel laughed shortly and harshly, little humor in the sound. “Aye, but even that skilled little girl cannot fight all of the Frasers and the MacFibhs who will be trying to spill her blood.”
As Gabel raced through the hall of Kengarvey, he saw the fleeting shadows of the terrified people trying to hide within a keep that had now begun to burn. He called out to them, telling everyone who might hear him, that they would be treated fairly and mercifully, if they surrendered themselves to the men of Bellefleur. Realizing that some of the people hiding there might not know which of the enemy swarming over Kengarvey was from Bellefleur, he told them what badge his men wore. Since there was little else he could do beside chase down each man, woman, and child, he turned his full attention to the matter of finding Ainslee. If he could reach her before his blood-crazed allies did, he might yet save her life.
Nineteen
The moment Ainslee buckled on her sword, sheathed her daggers, and took up her bow and arrows, she felt a little more at ease. She was still weakened by a lack of food, the appalling conditions of the dungeons, and the beatings she had endured, but she was no longer helpless, no longer trapped and completely at the mercy of whichever one of the enemy happened to stumble upon her. With her poor health and lingering injuries, she would have little chance of winning a fight, but she swore that she would cost the Frasers and the MacFibhs dearly if they tried to kill her.
Into a small bag she stuffed what little she could find that would be useful if she was forced to flee the keep. Slinging the sack over her shoulder, she cautiously left her tiny chilled bedchamber, watching intently for some sign of the enemy as she crept her way toward the stairs. The only times she hesitated was to briefly search for some of her father’s people so that she could urge them to seek out a Bellefleur man and surrender to him. She only found a few in the upper chambers, and decided that another thing the people of Kengarvey had learned to do with great skill was hide.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she caught a glimpse of the young maid who had helped Colin tend to her injuries after the beatings. The young girl was visibly trembling, clutching a small, wide-eyed boy in her arms, as she tried to press deeper into a tiny niche in the wall near the stairs. Although the girl squeaked in alarm when Ainslee approached her, she still clung to enough of her wits to recognize a friend and not try to run away. There was such a wild look of panic in the maid’s eyes, however, that Ainslee feared she would never be able to talk sense to the girl.
“Morag, is it?” she asked in a soothing, friendly voice as she crouched next to the girl, positioning herself so that she could still keep a close watch out for the enemy.
“Aye, mistress,” the maid replied, her voice high and strained. “I thank God that someone let ye out, but now ye must flee whilst ye can. We are all doomed here. The Frasers and the MacFibhs are putting everyone to the sword.”
“Hush, lass, dinna let your fears cause ye to be careless and thus bring those filthy cowards hunting us.” Ainslee gently grasped the girl by the arm, holding her in case she tried to bolt, but also trying to soothe her. “Is this your bairn?” The girl nodded. “A fine, handsome lad.”
“He is your father’s bastard.”
That did not really surprise Ainslee, for she had already noticed something painfully familiar about the child’s eyes and hair. Ronald had tried to keep that part of life at Kengarvey a secret from her, but it had proven impossible. She had barely become a woman herself when she had discovered that her father made free use of all the women and young girls at his keep, girls barely past their first flux. Ainslee sighed and lightly ruffled the child’s soft auburn curls.
“I am sorry for that, Morag,” she murmured.
“Why? Ye did naught to me. Ye werena treated much better than me either. Nay, my mother hoped to get me to my cousins in Edinburgh ere I passed my first flux, but there was no way out of this accursed place. I tried to stay hidden in the shadows, but he found me. ’Tis my good fortune that he found me too timid, too cold, and too thin, so he rarely dragged me into his bed.” The expression on her small face hardened for one brief moment. “I am glad he is dead.”
“My father is dead?” Ainslee was a little surprised at how much that shocked her, for it was the fate her father had been assiduously courting for years. “Come, child,” she ordered the girl, knowing she had to be forceful. There was no time to continue to cajole the girl. “Ye and my wee bastard brother are coming with me.” She started to pull the maid toward the door leading to the bailey.
“Nay,” cried Morag, her terror swiftly returning in full strength, and she tried to pull free of Ainslee’s tight grasp. “We will all die.”
“Not if we can reach the men of Bellefleur.”
“ ’Twas the laird of Bellefleur himself who killed our laird. Cut him down in the great hall. He is as great an enemy of the MacNairns as the others are.”
“Nay, he isna,” snapped Ainslee, her temper fraying as the girl’s nearly palpable terror began to strengthen her own fears. “If I ever hear ye compare Sir de Amalville to those other swine again, I shall strike ye soundly.” The maid’s eyes were so wide, Ainslee was sure they had to be stinging. Since the girl was so stunned by her mistress’s show of temper she had grown quite still, Ainslee took swift advantage of it and dragged her to the doors of the great hall. “Ye say that my father was slain in here?”
“Aye, but I swear that I had naught to do with it, and I beg your forgiveness for saying that I was glad your father was dead.”
“If ye would cease to allow yourself to be so blinded by your own fears, ye would see that I am neither grieved nor angry o’er his death. Ye would also see that none of the enemy are in the halls of this keep. We have neither heard nor glimpsed them since I pulled ye from your hiding place.” Ainslee found that a little strange, but decided it would be wise not to say so aloud, for the girl was still trembling. “I canna see my father’s body,” Ainslee muttered as she looked into the great hall, seeing all the signs of a fight, but no body.
For one brief moment her gaze became fixed upon the bloodstained rushes where she was sure her father had fallen. A touch of grief came and went, leaving only disappointment. After a minute of confusion, she realized that her disappointment came from knowing what her father might have been and, although it would have taken a miracle to change the man, what he would never become.
“They took the body away, mistress,” Morag said, breaking into Ainslee’s sad musings.
“Took it away? Why should they take the time from slaughtering us to drag a dead mon away?”
“I was hiding, mistress. I but saw them and was too far away to hear what they were saying. They were some of Fraser’s men; that I can swear to.”
“Curse them. Weel, there is nothing here worth lingering over. We shall go out into the bailey” She cursed under her breath when the maid whimpered and tried to pull away from her. “I will see that ye and your son are safely placed in the hands of the men from Bellefleur.”
“Oh, sweet Mary, we are soon to die.”
“Hold your judgement until ye actually see such a threat.”
Ainslee ceased trying to be gentle and understanding, dragging the girl along as she pushed her way through the heavy, partly splintered door leading out of the keep. The sharp scent of smoke had already begun to sting her nose and eyes, so she knew the keep had been fired, but her first sight of the bailey nearly caused her to echo Morag’s whimper. The ground was strewn with bodies, the smoke from the slowly burning keep swirling around the twisted corpses. There was a number of Frasers and MacFibhs scattered amongst the dead, but that gave Ainslee little comfort. The toll amongst her own people had been appallingly high.
A sharp cry of horror from Morag and the maid’s renewed attempts to pull away, yanked Ainslee from her dark thoughts. She turned to scold the girl, only to frown when she saw that Morag was not looking at the corpse-cluttered ground, but upwards. Ainslee warily followed the direction of the maid’s stare and heard herself cry out in shock. Now she knew why the men had taken the time to move her father’s corpse. Their enemies had separated her father’s head from his body, and were displaying it on the end of a spike placed high up on the walls of Kengarvey. Although she felt no real grief over her father’s death, she found this barbaric display enough to churn her stomach. She fought the urge to simply turn and flee, to run from the gruesome sight of her father’s dismemberment, from the stench of blood, smoke, and death, and from the purposeful destruction of the only home she had ever known.
One glance at Morag and her baby helped Ainslee subdue that urge. The child clung to his mother, but stared at Ainslee with fear and confusion. Ainslee knew that she did not have enough supplies to care for the mother and child as well as herself if she fled Kengarvey. She also knew that, if she did not lead Morag to safety, the maid would rush back to her inadequate hiding place and get herself and her child murdered.
“Come along, Morag, and I will lead you to Gabel’s people,” Ainslee said, her weariness weighting her voice.
“We dinna need to go now.” Morag pointed a shaky finger at Duggan MacNairn’s head. “The battle has clearly been lost. The fighting will soon cease as weel. We but need to hide—”
Ainslee cursed and gave the maid a brief hard shaking. “Ye will do exactly as I say, and cease this endless whining.”
When Morag immediately grew quiet and obedient, Ainslee wished she had been so fierce from the moment she had discovered the girl. She did feel a little guilty about treating Morag so, as it was the constant brutality of life in Kengarvey that had made the girl such a coward. Sympathy and kindness would not save the girl’s life now, however.
As she searched for some sign of a Bellefleur man who could help them, Ainslee stayed close to the keep. Sparks from the burning building fell dangerously close to them, but Ainslee felt that the Frasers and the MacFibhs were far more dangerous. There was still a lot of fighting going on, for the MacNairns knew that the Frasers and the MacFibhs were offering no chance of mercy, and her father’s hirelings never expected any, so entered each battle as if it were one to the death. In the midst of all that confusion, men busily robbed the dead and looted the outer buildings before setting them afire as well, squabbling amongst themselves over what few spoils they could find.
She stumbled against a body slumped next to the wall. When she glanced down even as she and Morag stepped over it, Ainslee whispered a curse. Her guard stared into the emptiness of death, a look of surprise on his face. Ainslee felt the usual horror she did when looking upon a violent death, as well as a twinge of regret. By allowing Colin to visit her and sneak her a few morsels of food, the man had revealed a hint of goodness.
Distracted by finding Robert’s body, Ainslee did not see the Fraser man until it was almost too late. Morag screamed softly and sank to the ground, sheltering her child with her own body. Ainslee cursed, raising her sword just in time to successfully block the man’s deadly blow. The painful way her arm shook from the force of the blow confirmed her fears that her captivity had weakened her. She would have to resort to some trickery or deception if she was to win the fight, and she prayed that some opportunity would present itself quickly, before what little strength she still had was all used up.
“Ye are MacNairn’s youngest whelp, arena ye? The one that crippled fool raised up,” the man said.
That Fraser’s hireling would talk to her as they fought revealed how confident he was that he could beat her, and Ainslee wondered if she would be able to take advantage of that. “Aye, and that cripple is more of a mon than ye can e’er hope to be.”
“Aye? Put down your sword, lass, and I will show ye just how much of a mon I be.”
“Ah, so the Frasers still indulge in the crime of raping and murdering women.”
“I ne’er said I would murder you.”
“Ye ne’er offered me a chance to live either.”
“Nay, if ye seek to live, ye had best go to one of those tenderhearted men of Bellefleur.”
She neatly eluded his lunge, but he was quick to recover. His next strike came so close that it sliced into her skirts, and Ainslee knew that she could not fight him for very much longer. All of the deprivations she had suffered through since returning to Kengarvey had left her too weak, and that weakness robbed her of much needed skill and speed. She wished Morag was not so afraid and would notice that she could use some help, but knew she would have to depend upon her wits alone.
The next blow that came too close cut through the bodice of her gown and scored her side. Ainslee felt the warm dampness of her blood begin to soak her clothes, and had to fight her own swiftly rising fears. The man’s insulting reference to the tenderhearted men of Bellefleur told her that Gabel was keeping his promise to try and save as many of her people as he could. With safety so close at hand, she could not die now. It would be so unfair. It would also lead to the death of Morag and her child, for Ainslee knew that, once she fell, the man would immediately turn his murderous attentions upon the terrified maid and her helpless baby.
Just as Ainslee began to think that the opportunity she so badly needed would not come until she was too exhausted to take advantage of it, Morag leapt up and grabbed Fraser’s man by the arm. “Ye shouldna try and kill a woman, ye stinking coward,” Morag screamed as she repeatedly kicked the man in the legs.
When the man turned to shake off Morag, Ainslee did not hesitate. Even as she drove the sharp point of her sword deep into his chest, he had begun to turn back to her, his expression revealing that he had suddenly realized what a fatal mistake he had made. As he slumped to the ground at her feet, Ainslee heard Morag whimper in horror, and watched the girl hastily retrieve her child from where she had set the boy down.
“Thank ye, Morag,” she said, as the trembling girl returned to her side “Ye have just saved my life.”
“Oh, I have?” Morag blinked in surprise and calmed down a little. “I fear I didna really think about what I was doing. I just wanted the fighting to stop,” she added in an unsteady whisper.