Chapter Ten.html #4
His eyes blazed. “Then you will. God keep ye, Margaret.”
Their stares held, and then he was turning and striding away, his swords bumping his thighs as he walked. Margaret hugged herself. “God keep you,” she said harshly.
Then she realized that Padraig was staring, Sir Neil was staring, others were staring. She turned away, shaken, afraid her feelings had been written all over her face.
She heard them leaving, a thunder of booted steps across the stone floors and out the courtyard doors. Margaret told herself she must not feel such a sense of loss.
Peg stepped into the hall. “Margaret?”
Margaret understood and she looked at her. Peg wanted to know if they were putting their plan of escape into effect.
Alexander was gone. It would be months before he returned. And one night did not change who he was or who she was.
She had betrayed her family and Sir Guy last night, but that did not mean she had changed her loyalties. Besides, she could not remain at Castle Fyne, Alexander’s prisoner, knowing what she did.
“Be at the north door in two hours,” Margaret said.
* * *
THE COURTYARD HAD been terribly crowded and filled with gawkers as Alexander and his knights had ridden out, but now it was quiet. Margaret paused on the steps leading into the yard, Eilidh behind her, both women in disguise.
Their hoods were full, their cowls long. Margaret wore Eilidh’s clothes. Both women looked like Highland maids. But Margaret did not move down the steps.
William’s plan would have been better, she thought, if they had left while Alexander and his knights were riding out, causing a great spectacle—most of the castle had turned out to watch and wave farewell.
Now, the courtyard was too quiet. Some men and women were leading several cows into the yard, while a carpenter was making repairs to a door.
Four children played in one corner and a pair of soldiers guarded the entry tower.
On the ramparts, Alexander’s archers stood, and the watch was in all the towers.
She knew his huge army was on the march, and slowly leaving the camp it had made outside the castle’s walls, but from where she stood, she could not see it. Instead, she felt terribly exposed.
Her pulse raced. She told herself that no one would recognize her now, especially not from the ramparts above, and she started down the steps, Eilidh following. If they were to successfully escape, they must do so now.
She must not think about what she meant to do, either—she must simply do it. Aware of Eilidh on her heels, Margaret hurried across the courtyard, away from the entry tower, toward its northernmost walls.
Ahead, she saw Peg there, laughing with the Highlander guarding the north exit. Peg had been eager to help—as long as she could escape and go home with them. Margaret glanced behind them and relief arose—William was hurrying toward them in his own disguise.
Even though he remained a careful distance away from her, so they would not become an obvious group, she saw that his eyes were bright with excitement. She tried to smile back at him, aware that she did not feel the excitement he was feeling.
Glancing ahead, she saw Peg move into the Highlander’s arms. Beginning to kiss wildly, groping one another frantically, they moved against the wall—away from the door.
And a bell began to toll above them, loud and in warning.
Their disappearance had been noted, Margaret thought, stunned. Either someone realized she was missing, or, more likely, someone realized that William was not in his cell.
William cursed, looking back. So did Margaret—and she saw Padraig appear on the ramparts above the great hall.
And he looked down, right at William.
The two men seemed to make eye contact. Margaret could not see Padraig’s expression from this distance, but she saw his posture change—stiffening with surprise.
“He has recognized me!” William cried. Then, “Run!”
But as Margaret turned to do just that, Peg and the Highland guard broke apart, the guard turning toward the ramparts. Margaret glanced back and saw Padraig pointing at William—he shouted something.
Margaret turned wildly back, faltering, as she could hardly run past the guard now. As she stood there with Eilidh, he came running toward her, and for one moment, she thought he meant to seize her. But he did not. He was running over to William.
William changed course, veering away from the guard, and from the north exit. And then she heard a horrible sound—a sound she hated and feared.
It was the hiss of an arrow.
William cried out.
Margaret choked in horror as William fell, an arrow protruding from the back of his shoulder. “Will!”
His face ravaged with pain, he looked up at her. “Go, damn it, go, run, go!”
Margaret did not want to leave him lying there in pain, wounded from the arrow. But Eilidh tugged on her hand. The guard was already upon Will, and now she saw that Peg had opened the north door—and it was not guarded—it was not even watched!
Trying not to run, they kept walking toward the small doorway, and as they slipped outside, she looked back into the courtyard. She could not see Will now—he was surrounded by soldiers. Peg slammed the door closed before she could see anything else.
Outside, they paused for an instant, staring at one another. Was William seriously hurt? “I must go back,” Margaret began.
“No!” Peg seized her hand. “I dinna think they even ken we’ve escaped!”
Peg might be right, Margaret realized, as there were no rude shouts coming from within the courtyard. Surely, if they had been noticed, there would be cries of alarm and shouted orders.
And the thick, almost impenetrable forest was just steps away. She could not see through it, but she could actually hear the army on the road on its other side.
“Let’s go,” she said decisively.
They ran. And a moment later Margaret skidded into the first rows of branches, pine needles and wood scraping her hands and face, and catching her hair.
She did not stop, and saw that Eilidh and Peg were right behind her.
They plowed on through the trees, the ground frozen and hard now, until the only sounds in the woods were their harsh, heavy breaths.
Margaret held up her hand and they stopped, collapsing against a tree. Everyone panted heavily, catching their breath.
And when the sound of their breathing was softer, Margaret strained to hear, listening for sounds of pursuit.
It would have been easy for Padraig and his men to follow their tracks into the forest, if they had been remarked escaping.
But once they did so, it would not be as easy to follow them, not at all.
The forest was too thick. The ground was at times muddy and thawing, and in other places, frozen solid.
However, it would be easy to guess what they intended—that they meant to slip into Alexander’s army.
But there was no sound of Padraig being anywhere close to them. Was it possible that their escape had yet to be noticed?
“I dinna think we’re being followed,” Peg whispered.
“I think you’re right,” Margaret whispered back. They exchanged looks. Margaret held up her hand, indicating that no one should speak. Very carefully now, they started south, at a slow pace, trying not to make a sound.
Perhaps a half an hour later they reached the other side of the forest. And there, upon the narrow road, was Alexander’s army.