Devil in a Kilt by Sue-Ellen Welfonder
Chapter 36
In her tower chamber, Linnet paced like a caged animal. “You cannae mean to keep me locked in here,” she railed at the two brawny warriors who blocked the room’s only exit. “I will go mad.”
“We hope not, my lady,” the taller one, Malcolm, answered for them both. Unsmiling, they stood before the locked door, their muscular arms crossed forbiddingly over their massive chests.
“There will be injuries, possibly deaths.” Linnet fought the stinging heat at the backs of her eyes. “My husband would want me in the hall to tend his men.”
“It was the laird himself who declared you shall not leave this chamber, my lady,” Malcolm told her, his voice so calm and courteous Linnet wished to hurl something at him.
“Please, lady, you must becalm yourself,” Alec, the other one tried to soothe her, a pleading note in his voice. “We cannae go against the Black Stag’s orders. ’Tis for your own good.”
Linnet bristled. Angrily, she cast a glance at Elspeth, who sat by the fire, holding the sleeping Robbie on her lap. The boy’s old mongrel, Mauger, slept, too, curled on the floor at Elspeth’s feet.
It was apparent from the way Elspeth avoided her gaze that her old nurse sided with the two giants sent to keep her from her duties.
“It is well and good to keep Elspeth and Robbie safe behind barred and guarded doors, but I am lady of this castle. It is my place to tend the injured.” She paused, then aimed her next words at Elspeth. “Your betrothed is likely in the middle of the fray as well. Would you not want me there to tend him should he be injured?”
“I am but a servant,” Elspeth said, the humble words foreign to her usual self-assured ways. “It would not be seemly for me to question the laird’s wishes.”
Just then, a series of hollow-sounding thuds underscored the danger as arrows thwacked against the closed window shutters. Desperate and spurred to action by this new threat, Linnet dashed across the room and snatched up her herb satchel.
Near tears, she waved it under the guards’ noses. “In this bag is everything needed should harm come to my lord husband or a single one of his men.” Pausing, she blinked back the tears burning her eyes. “And you would keep me from aiding them.”
The men grew still, nodding in silent admission they’d heard her, but not budging from where they stood.
“We are sorry, my lady,” Malcolm said.
“Do you not care if someone dies for lack of proper care?” she pressed, clutching the satchel to her chest. “Think of what could happen to a friend of yours – a cousin or brother. Does such a tragedy mean nothing?”
The look the men exchanged told her more than spoken words.
“Who?” She dropped her bag of herbs and rushed up to them. With trembling hands, she clutched at the tunic of the one called Malcolm. “Who is hurt? What-” she broke off, panic seizing her. “Not my husband?”
Malcolm swallowed and slid a sideways glance at Alec.
“You will tell me,” she cried, pulling on Malcolm’s shirt. “I demand it.”
“Nothing has happened to Sir Duncan, lady,” Alec spoke up. “It was Iain. He took an arrow in his neck. No herbs would’ve saved him, nor any prayers.”
“Mercy.” Linnet closed her eyes for a moment, swallowed hard. “He was a good man, one of my husband’s favorites.”
“Aye,” both men said, looking uncomfortable.
“There will be others, and they deserve my care.” Linnet stepped back and straightened her shoulders, her determination growing upon hearing this dire news. “Perhaps even my husband.”
“You’ve no need to fret over the laird,” Alec tried to reassure her. “A more able warrior ne’er lived. I’ve seen him cleave a man in two with one stroke of his sword.”
“And if he cannot wield it? If he takes an arrow?”
“He’d fight on. Your husband is a masterful opponent, my lady,” Malcolm said. “He fears no man and would challenge the devil himself to defend his own.”
“I can fight, too,” Robbie piped up, suddenly awake. He sprang from Elspeth’s arms, his little wooden sword held high. “I will fight Uncle Kenneth to the death.”
“And surely you will,” Elspeth granted, pushing herself out of her chair and gathering Robbie back into her sturdy arms, toy sword and all. “’Tis a fine and noble warrior you’ll no doubt be. Someday,” she crooned, settling herself back in the chair, the lad held firmly upon her aproned lap. “But first you’ve a mite bit of growing to do.”
“Well, I am grown,” Linnet declared. “And I can fight well. My brothers taught me.”
At Elspeth’s shocked gasp, Linnet lifted her skirts and displayed the finely honed dirk tucked into her boot. “It’s sharpened, and I know how to use it.” She paused to glare at Alec and Malcolm as she let the hem of her gown fall back into place. “Dinnae make me show you.”
“My lady, you go too far,” Elspeth warned. “Have you forgotten the tales of Sir Duncan’s valor? He does not need your help to fight off his enemies. As for the wounded, if there are any, Fergus will have thought to see such needs are taken care of.”
Linnet shot Elspeth a furious look and resumed her pacing. But after three rounds of the chamber, she halted in the middle of the room. “Do none of you hear the shouts and screams out there?” she cried, wringing her hands. “Are you all deaf?” Her frantic gaze raked first Elspeth, then her husband’s two men. “I can’t bear it, do you hear me? How can you expect me to stand here and do nothing?”
The old hound, Mauger, stirred at her outburst. As if unsure of the welcome he’d receive, he crept forward, his head low, his straggly tail held between his legs. Whining softly, he nudged her, pressing close against her legs.
“Mauger,” Linnet breathed, the one word almost too thick to get past her painfully constricted throat. The dog gazed up at her, his brown eyes filled with concern and adoration. Not taking his gaze off her, he gave another pitiful whine, then bathed her hands with kisses.
His display of devotion snapped the tenuous threads holding Linnet together. With a little cry, she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the ancient beast, burying her cheek against his shoulder. “Oh, Mauger, why will they not listen?” she murmured against the soothing warmth of his rough coat. “’Tis important … so important …”
Holding tight to Mauger as if only he understood, she kept her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to let her tears fall. Even when Elspeth laid a gentle hand upon the back of her head, she kept her cheek pressed firmly against the dog’s shoulder, clinging to him and drinking in the solace he so lovingly offered.
If only something would drown out the horrid sounds reaching them from the battlements.
Then something did.
Something far more terrifying for its portent.
It was Sir Marmaduke’s voice, loud and gruff, ordering young Thomas to unlock the door.
* * *
Linnet scrambledto her feet at once. She remained where she stood, frozen in place, while Alec slid back the heavy bolt barring the door from the inside, for it had been secured against intruders from within and without.
An unnatural silence fell over the chamber as the door creaked open to reveal the tall Sassunach. His formidable presence filled the archway, but it was the grim expression on his scarred face that struck terror into Linnet’s heart.
That, and the pity in his one good eye.
“Nae!” Linnet cried, her world crashing around her feet. “My lord? Is he…” She let her voice trail off, unable to put her fear into words.
Sir Marmaduke shook his head, then drew an arm over his begrimed forehead. “I am sorry, my lady, but I must escort you to your husband. He lives, but I fear he will not much longer if he does not have his wounds tended.” He paused. “The fool refuses to leave the battlements.”
No! He must not die!Linnet didn’t know if she screamed the words or if they sounded only in her head. She couldn’t tell, for the floor had tilted beneath her feet, and the room seemed to be spinning around her.
Ever faster, a dizzying whirl of colors and blurred faces, all crowding around her, staring at her.
He must not die!
The English knight’s strong arm went around her, supporting her, and someone - Elspeth? - pushed her herb satchel into her arms, then draped her mother’s arisaid around her shoulders.
And somewhere behind her, a young boy cried.
“God go with you,” one of the guardsmen said, but she didn’t know which one.
Then Marmaduke was guiding her from the room, urging her toward the stairs to the battlements.
“The wounds are not so grave, my lady, do not fear,” he sought to console her. “’Tis only he will not stop fighting and his movements are causing him to lose too much blood. You must convince him to leave the battlements. He will listen to you.”
He must not die!
Linnet’s knees gave out halfway up the stairs. Before she could crumple to the stone steps, Sir Marmaduke caught her, easily lifting her into his arms.
“He will live,” he assured her. “And I will not let any harm come to you. Do not be afraid.”
Holding tight to her herb bag, Linnet pressed her lips together and said nothing.
“All will be well,” he promised as they rounded yet another curve in the stairs.
He must not die!
“We are almost there.” Marmaduke halted before the door to the wall walk. “Lady, have you listened to me? Have you heard a word I’ve said?” he asked as he eased open the door with his foot.
“Aye,” Linnet whispered, her voice ragged.
But she didn’t mean his well-meant words of comfort.
Nae, may the saints and old gods have mercy on her, she only heard the words in her head.
Over and over again.
He must not die!
She wouldn’t allow it.