Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“ D amn ye!” Isla muttered under her breath as she rushed to do the impossible. In her hurry to reach the makeshift washstand, she managed to trip over her own feet and almost went flying headlong into it. Somehow, she righted herself, only to find there was hardly any water left in the jug for her to wash in.
With only the bare means of washing available and hardly any time to do it in, she grumbled to herself quietly about his unreasonableness as she grabbed the sliver of soap—it slipped from her hand, and she had to chase it before she could get hold of it—hurriedly scrubbing her face, ears, neck, and hands as best she could. There was no time to clean her teeth, she decided.
Still rubbing herself with a drying cloth, she ran over to the cot to get her footwear and jacket on. By the time she made a plate and pushed her hair beneath her cap and tugged on her uniform jacket, she felt like the living embodiment of her grandmother’s oft quoted adage, “More haste, less speed.”
While she was rushing to do all this in the time stipulated, Ewan strode over to the threshold of the tent and stood, back turned and arms folded, looking out over the bustle of preparations Isla could hear going on outside as the camp disbanded.
That was when Ewan was joined by another soldier by the entrance to the tent. She saw he was dressed as a captain and was shorter than Ewan but just as powerful looking. He had sandy hair pulled atop his head in a bun, tattoos that wound up his neck, and a fierce, weatherbeaten face.
He looked at Isla with curious intensity as he and Ewan greeted each other with the familiarity of close friends. She made out his name was Colin. Not wanting him to have too close a look at her in case he saw through her masculine disguise, she turned away and fiddled with her cap. She strained her ears to hear what they were saying. Frustratingly, they kept their voices too low for her to make anything out.
A couple of hours later, the camp was fully packed up, and Ewan rode out at the head of his force. To his right rode Colin. To his left rode Isla, in her new persona as the young soldier Harris.
“I dinnae recognize ye, Harris,” the captain yelled over to her. “Where have ye come from?”
Isla glanced at Ewan with alarm, struggling to come up with an answer.
“Ach, the young whipper-snapper turned up in me tent last night,” the laird answered for her. “He’s one of the farm lads whose family was displaced from their home when Allan stole me lands,” he lied smoothly, leaving Isla relieved as well as impressed by his powers of invention. Obviously, he had it all figured out.
“He’s a bit young, is he nae?” Colin said dubiously, staring over at Isla with suspicious eyes, sending her anxiety soaring.
“Aye, he’s too young tae join up really, but the wee blighter wants his revenge on Allan and fairly begged me tae let him stay and fight,” Ewan explained. “He’s enthusiastic, and I couldnae see the point of sending him all the way back home. I told him can stay and make himself useful tae me. He made a bloody good job of polishin’ me boots this mornin’.”
“Did he now?” Colin replied, still looking doubtful. “Can he fight?”
“Och, aye. I’ll nae be puttin’ him in the front line, but we had a wee tussle in the tent last night, and the lad proved himsel’ handy enough with a dirk,” Ewan replied casually, glancing sideways at Isla.
His look seemed to say, “See how I’m lyin’ tae me friend tae keep ye safe?” Though it stuck in her craw to have to be grateful to her enemy, she found she was all the same.
“So, ye want revenge on that cheatin’ dog Allan, d’ye, Harris?” the captain asked.
Isla cleared her throat and adjusted her voice to sound more masculine as she replied, “Aye, Captain, Sir.” Though she had kept the words to a minimum, they had nevertheless come out sounding squeakily discordant, like those of an adolescent poised midway between boyhood and manhood.
“Christ, Ewan, are ye sure about this?” Colin asked, his forehead creasing with concern. “Nay offence, Harris, but ye sound like yer balls havenae even dropped yet.”
“I’m fourteen, Sir,” Isla ventured.
“Ach, leave the lad alone, Colin. He cannae help his age, and if he’s keen tae be here, then he cannae dae any harm,” the laird said with an air of finality.
“Well, all right, if that’s what ye want,” the captain relented with a shrug. However, as they continued the journey through her homelands towards Gregory and Castle Galbraith, Colin continued to throw curious glances at Isla, making her feel even more uncomfortable and fearful than she already was.
When the captain decided to ride a short way back to check on something, she drew nearer to Ewan and said in a low voice, “Thank ye fer lyin’ fer me, but I dinnae think he’s quite convinced.”
“Ach, Colin’s just naturally suspicious. That’s his job after all, tae make sure there are nae spies in the camp,” he replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“I’m nae a spy,” she pointed out.
“Nay, ye’re an assassin,” he reminded her. “And nae a very good one at that. And by the way, I’m still waitin’ for ye tae tell me the truth about who sent ye tae kill me.”
“I already told ye. A stranger?—”
“In the village inn, aye, I ken,” he broke in irritably. “I forgot tae ask ye how much I’m worth dead.”
Flustered by the unexpected question, Isla snatched the first figure which came to her from the air. “Thirty English pounds.”
He made a disgusted noise. “Thirty bloody pounds?! Is that all. Christ Almighty. Am I so cheap? I thought at least a hundred.”
“Ye think that’s cheap, but thirty pounds would set me up for life,” Isla said, feeling unaccountably bad for having undervalued him, which she knew was ridiculous since it was a complete fiction anyway.
“I suppose so,” he said with a shrug. “If what’s about tae come turns out badly fer me, ye’ll be lucky tae get a couple of groats fer me head,” he added with a bitter laugh.
For some unfathomable reason, his words plucked at Isla’s heartstrings. But she immediately chided herself for sympathizing with the enemy, whom she had already tried to murder. Instead, she focused on the first part of his statement.
“Why? What’s about tae come? Ye still havenae told me where we’re headin’,” she said. It was now afternoon, and they were getting awfully close to the castle. The land they were now riding through was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She was hoping that at this stage, he might let slip some useful nugget of information she could somehow get to her brother to use against him.
“We’re on our way tae the stronghold of Laird Galbraith, the main ally of me mortal enemy, Laird Calumn Allan.” He said the name with obvious distaste, completely unaware he was telling her what she already knew.
“And what d’ye intend tae dae when we get there?” Isla pressed, gripped by fear and anxiety and desperate for answers. Time was running out, for she knew that once they cleared the next rocky ridge, the towers of her home would be clearly visible above the surrounding trees.
“That all depends on Laird Galbraith,” he replied enigmatically.
“Are ye gonnae wage war on the castle?”
He turned his head and gave her a strange look. “For someone with a lot of secrets, ye ask an awful lot of questions.”
Isla tried to tamp down her fear. “Sorry. I’m just curious, ’tis all. I’ve never been a soldier before.”
“Well, that’s just about the one thing ye’ve said that I can believe,” he replied laconically.
At that moment, Colin came riding up and fell in next to his Laird. “The castle’s just over the next hill, Ewan,” he informed him.
“Grand,” the laird said with an icy calm that only served to deepen Isla’s fears. She fought down the urge to take off and ride straight to Gregory, to tell him what was happening. But since that would likely end in her immediate death, which would render her useless, she decided she could be far more helpful to him by remaining with the enemy commander.
“Did ye send the scouts ahead tae see the lay of the land like I said?” Ewan asked his captain.
“Aye,” Colin replied. “They’ll report back as soon as they can.”
“Very well,” said the laird, his handsome face a cold mask. “Now all we havetae dae is wait.”
The wait for the scouts to return seemed interminable to Isla, and it was like torture. Ewan had ordered quiet to be maintained in the camp while they waited. She was sure Gregory would have armed units patrolling the area too, and she was itching to sneak off and find one of them, to tell them of the imminent attack. She thought about running and getting back into the castle via the tunnels, to tell Gregory herself. But she dared not move.
Ewan was suspicious of her. Though he had no idea of her true identity, he was always watching her closely, insisting she stayed within his sight at all times. While they waited, she was forced to swallow her mounting fears and go with him, Colin, and a few of the serjeants as they rode slowly up to the crest of the ridge and stopped to survey what Isla feared would soon become the killing ground.
Isla was shocked to see the fields surrounding her home, which were usually full of livestock and activity, now lay empty and quiet. The castle, which stood upon a steep rocky promontory, presented its grey granite face to the enemy, as forbidding as a sleeping monster. She imagined Gregory and his men standing behind the battlements, and all the frightened people crammed inside the walls, all waiting, watching for the enemy to approach.
“The place looks all but impenetrable. Ye’re right, Ewan, a frontal attack would be a bloodbath,” Colin said.
His words made Isla feel sick, and she prayed they would deter Ewan from attacking. But it was impossible to tell from his expression what he was thinking, and her sense of foreboding grew as they rode back to the waiting men.
Eventually, the sound of thundering hooves was heard, and two scouts came riding up behind them, having clearly circled around to confuse anyone who might be following them. The men reigned in the horses at a skid close to Ewan, slid from their saddles and ran to him, their faces red and dusty from exertion. They removed their caps as they stood before him and Colin. Standing a few feet away, Isla struggled to hear above the sound of her heart thudding in her ears.
“Well?” their leader said, looking at his scouts with an air of calm expectancy.
“It looks like Galbraith’s had advance warning of us comin’ and is well prepared, m’laird,” said the older man, still slightly out of breath. “He seems tae have taken every man and beast within the castle environs inside the castle walls. The village is deserted. There’s nae so much as a sheep or chicken tae be found anywhere within a mile or two.”
“Aye, and the fields and barns have been stripped of all the grain and crops too, m’laird,” the younger, bearded scout added.
“Any sign of any troops anywhere about lyin’ in wait fer us?” Ewan asked.
The men both shook their heads. “We saw naethin’ like that. But the castle’s fairly bristling with defenses. Ye can see he has an army of musket men up on the roof. Most likely he has some small artillery up there too. The place is locked up tight as a drum, m’laird.”
Isla’s silent prayers that Ewan would give up proved in vain, for he did not seem perturbed by the intelligence at all. “I think ’tis time I paid Galbraith a wee visit,” he said. “Get a party together, Colin. We’re goin’ down tae speak tae him.”
“Aye,” the captain replied, gesturing to the sergeants. Wearing grave expressions, they all gathered and mounted up. When they were ready, with the Ballentine standard held high and the pennant bearing the clan’s arms flapping in the breeze, the laird took his position at their head. He jerked his chin at Isla to indicate that she should accompany them. Her heart in her throat, she got on her horse and guided it over to his side.
They set off at a stately pace, riding up over the ridge and down the other side, heading steadily for the road that led through the trees to the castle. By the time they pulled up before the mighty gates, Isla was shaking almost uncontrollably. She could see the soldiers of her clan rushing about on the battlements and the barrels of many muskets protruding from the slitted gun loops interspersing the walls.
While she was glad the place was so well defended, she realized it was only mere honor between the two lairds that was preventing the enemy party from being annihilated where they stood, with her among the dead.
Ewan looked up to the battlements. She almost jumped out of her skin when he stood up in his stirrups and suddenly bellowed, “Galbraith! Where are ye man? Show yer face!”
Isla’s heart clenched with terror as Gregory’s head appeared between the battlements. She could see he was in full battle dress, his polished helmet gleaming in the sunlight. She wanted to scream at him to do something to avoid the slaughter, but in her disguise as an enemy soldier, how would he recognize her?
“I’m here, Ballentine, ye cowardly dog!” her brother shouted down in reply, in a hard, sneering voice she had never heard him use before. “If ye dinnae wantae see yer men die, then ye’d best turn around and go home. There’s naethin’ fer ye here but death and defeat.”
Ewan sat back in his saddle and appeared to shrug off the insult. “Brave words, man, but pride comes before a fall, eh?” He paused, turning his head deliberately from left to right as though searching for something before looking back up at Gregory. “Where’s yer friend Allan with his reinforcements? He’s a slippery one. Always out for himself. Maybe he’s on his way. Or maybe he’s nae comin’ at all. Some ally, eh?”
“Dinnae fash yersel’ about reinforcements,” Gregory replied. “We dinnae need them. We have all we need behind these walls tae keep ye out.”
Ewan laughed heartily. “Aye, of course, ye would say that. But dinnae try tae fool me. I ken ye’re short on men, and we both ken ye sent a messenger days ago fer Allan, askin’ him tae send troops tae help ye. That poor fella told me so himself before I cut his throat.”
Isla started at his claim, her heart dropping like a stone. The messenger was dead? Murdered by Ewan? The news would be a calamitous blow to her brother and his men. She had learned when eavesdropping on the council meeting that Gregory was all but counting on Allan bringing troops to aid him in repelling Ewan’s attack.
Without them, Gregory could not match Ewan’s force in numbers. A successful outcome of an outright battle between his men and the enemy commander’s was far from guaranteed. He needed those extra fighters to tip the balance in his favor. Now it seemed that by intercepting and killing the messenger, Ewan had removed that possibility from the table.
But Gregory did not react to the news as she thought he would. His mocking laugh rang through the air. “Aye, I sent a messenger all right, tae invite Laird Allan tae join me and me men in crushin’ ye fer good and all,” he shouted in tones of unconcern. “I ken he’d enjoy the sport of destroyin’ ye. Mind ye, I’ve seen auld grannies that could dae better in a fight than that shower of shit ye call an army!”
“I’m glad fer ye that me army cannae hear yer insults from over yonder hill. Those fine lads dinnae take kindly tae such abuse. But I promise nae tae tell them if ye’ll agree tae talk peace with me,” Ewan shouted back.
Isla started in surprise and looked over at him. Talk peace? She had not expected that at all. A small flame of hope flickered in her breast.