The Devil’s Laird by Brenda Jernigan

Chapter 15

Balan Castle

Northumbria, England

Balan Castle stands on a somewhat elliptical mound overlooking the River Wansbeck. Flags flew from the towers. By all appearances, everything looked peaceful, but turmoil was brewing inside the castle’s gray walls.

Baron Cinge Bertram sat behind his desk drumming his fingers upon the desk. His outlook was dire. He admitted to himself that he’d been a spendthrift and squandered much of his wealth, but he had always had Berwick and his son’s men to back him up . . . until that damn Scot took Berwick and killed his son.

Now that his son had been gone for over a year. He didn’t have enough men to retake Berwick and guard his own castle. He’d love to attack Black Dawn as his son once had and hopefully murder Laird Scott.

But Cinge knew he couldn’t do that. His only pleasure was knowing that the laird suffered every day for the loss of his son.

A knock on the door interrupted his brooding thoughts. “Enter.”

“Sire, Lord Malcolm is here to see you.”

“Show him in,” Cinge barked. He straightened his jacket, so he’d look presentable instead of desperate. He ran his hands through his brown hair, slicking it back away from his face.

In no time, Lord Malcolm strolled into the library and Cinge motioned for the man to take a seat. Malcolm reminded Cinge of a fat rat with his beady eyes. “Would you care for something to drink?”

“I’ll have what you are drinking.”

Cinge poured another glass of red port into a goblet and refilled his own, then sat the bottle on his desk. When he handed Malcolm his glass, Cinge asked, “What can I do for you?”

“It’s what I can do for you.” Lord Malcolm laughed at the shocked look on Cinge’s face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know you lost Berwick Castle along with a sizable income,” Malcolm said each word with the certainty of a man who was determined to get what he wanted. “I’m here to offer you a deal.”

“Go on.”

With a casual nod, Malcolm said, “I want your daughter.”

Cinge tried to hide his surprise at Malcolm's request. Cinge blinked several times before he said, “My daughter has been a thorn in my side for years. Why would you want her?”

Malcolm laughed. “Well for one, I hear she has grown into a beautiful woman. I’ve also been told that she can lead me to the Holy Grail.”

“The Holy Grail has been lost for years, man. There have been many quests for the Grail . . . all ending in death.”

“Death, maybe.” Malcolm shrugged. “Yet none have found the cup. Once it’s in my possession then I can make you a very wealthy man.”

Cinge nodded. “I like what I’m hearing but Siena is with Laird Scott, so I will have to get her back on English soil.”

Malcolm leaned forward and placed his glass on the desk. He refilled his glass, then asked, “Do you have the men to take her from the laird?”

“Hell no!” Cinge shrugged matter-of-factly and then thought better, not wanting to show his weakness. “Well, not on his ground, but I do have something the man wants more than anything. I think Laird Scott will hand over my daughter without lifting a sword.”

Malcolm astonishment was obvious, but he recovered and asked, “Then we have a bargain?”

Cinge stood and raised his glass in salute to Lord Malcolm. “We have a deal. I’ll send a message right away.”

* * *

One spring morning,Roderick told Siena he was going on a raid with two of his brothers. She bade him to be careful and vowed to herself that she was going to find Michael while her husband was gone. As she watched Roderick ride away, she had the strangest feeling that she’d never see him again. She shook her head to get rid of the silly feeling. He wouldn’t be gone that long. He had said so himself. She would make her husband happy again as soon as she discovered where Michael was located.

Two days later, Siena returned to the keep from her morning walk, she found a messenger standing in the entryway with the steward standing in front of him with his arms crossed. Martin, Roderick’s steward, more or less ran the household and had been very nice to Siena since she’d arrived. She assumed the men were having a discussion, so she made her way down the hall leading to the stairs that led to the great hall, knowing she wasn’t needed.

Martin turned and said, “Milady, the mon says he has a message for Laird Scott.”

Siena paused and then went back to stand next to Martin. “I’m Laird Scott’s wife. I’ll take it.” Siena held out her hand.

“Ye can read, milady?” Martin asked, a surprised look on his face as most women and men he knew couldn’t read and he most certainly couldn’t.

“Aye, I can.”

The messenger, who she noticed was dressed in her father’s colors, handed her the small note. She immediately recognized her father’s seal; however, she didn’t bother to comment or show any outer expression as a chill ran up her back. She knew that this couldn’t be good.

“Is there a reply, milady?” the messenger asked.

“Tell him, Laird Scott will be back in a couple of days. He will send his reply then,” Siena managed to say in a strained voice.

Her feet felt like lead as she went down the stairs into the great hall. Once she was alone, she walked over to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sat down. Siena realized she was shaking from head to toe so she took several deep breaths to calm herself before opening the letter. Quickly, she scanned the hateful words.

Agatha strolled in from the kitchen with two cups of hot spiced milk and sat them on the table between the two chairs. “I thought you might like something warm this morning, milady,” she paused and peered at Siena. “What’s wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost.”

“I wish I had seen a ghost.” Siena held up the slip of paper. “This is a letter from my father who I assure you is very much alive.”

Agatha gasped and set her cup back down before she dropped it. “What does it say?”

“Father has Michael.”

“That’s wonderful. The laird’s son is not dead. Laird Scott will be so happy.”

“Yes, that part is great news. However, Michael is still in the hands of my father. I hope he hasn’t mistreated the child, but I fear he probably has.” Siena paused and took a sip of milk, her mind spinning. “He wants Roderick to make a trade . . . his son for me.”

“Laird Scott will never agree.”

“How could he not make the trade?” Siena asked. “He wants his son more than anything and I want Michael back with his father. Nothing in the world would make Roderick happier.”

“But the laird loves you, milady, I’m sure he will think of something. He would never make the trade.” Agatha frowned. “I don’t like that look in your eye, milady. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to sit here a few minutes and think,” Siena said as she stared into the fire wanting the fire to speak to her. Then she remembered the stones. She slipped her right hand into her pouch and slipped the four stones into her hand. She held them tightly in her hand and murmured, “Speak to me. Show me the boy.”

In the middle of the flames, she could see the child. He was in her old bedroom. Michael was very thin, pale, and crying. Her heart ached for the child. He looked so frightened. She definitely knew how that felt. Then the flames produced her father’s face and she jumped back bumping the back of her head on the chair. He was talking to Henry, his first in command.

“We will look like weare going to make the exchange, but once the boy is almost to his father you will shoot an arrow into the boy’s back and kill him. Let Roderick feel what is like to truly lose a son. I’ll have no more use for the boy.

“What about your daughter?” Henry asked.

A slow smile spread on her father’s face. “I do have use for her.”

Siena was breathinghard when she jerked back to the present. She peered at Agatha who was sitting on the edge of her chair. “It’s a trap.”

“What did you see?”

“My father is planning to kill the boy in front of Roderick to even the score for my brother’s death.”

Agatha gasped. “But you did the killing, milady.”

“Aye, but I’m not sure he knows that I killed my brother, however, my father needs me, so he cannot kill me. Of that I am sure.”

“Milady, we must do something.”

“Do you remember that there is a passage in the back of the castle?” It was built because my father didn’t want to see servants running around the castle.”

“Aye.”

“I think I can get into the castle and get the child out without anyone seeing me.”

Agatha shook her head, then gasped. “It is awfully dangerous, milady.”

“I don’t want Roderick doing battle with my father’s men. I don’t want to be the cause of men losing their lives when I can make a difference. I can get Michael and we can head back toward Black Dawn.”

“But they will notice the child is gone and come after you.”

Siena looked around the room as if she was trying to find the answer. “I know.” She swung back. “The kitchen staff has always been loyal to me. I will get some food from them and ask that they keep up the pretense that the boy is still in his room for a little while. Father wouldn’t bother to check on the boy every day. That will give us a little time. Before I leave, I’ll dispatch a messenger to Roderick telling him what is going on. With luck, he will meet us on the road home, and no one will get caught.”

“But what if you are caught?”

Siena frowned. “I’ll tell them that if they let the boy go then I will lead them to the Holy Grail. They have been looking for it for years.”

“You know where it is?”

“Not exactly.” Siena stood up with a half-smile. “But I have confidence now that I can find it.

“I need to go see the fairies.”