Chapter 23 #3
“Jon, listen, this can work. I can go between the gates, we can receive his prisoners … and then, close the main gates before he can come at us again.”
Jon arched a brow. “You know that though he is saying that he will exchange you for the prisoners, he plans treachery already. When the portcullis opens to let the prisoners through, he plans to rush the gates.”
“Aye, but we’ve more defenses than he knows. The oil is ready; our archers will set fire to their arrows, and his men will burn like tinder—they’ll have to retreat. He will not gain access to the fortress!”
Jon sighed, looking down.
“Jon, I am my father’s daughter, I know warfare. If I were laird here, would you question me?”
He looked into her eyes. “I don’t question you. I fear for you.”
She reached out, caught his hand, squeezed it.
“Be ready, be prepared!” he called out to their archers.
“Lady Mellyora! I will kill Ewan MacKinny if I do not see your lovely face very quickly now, and after Ewan, I slay the beautiful Eleanora!”
She saw him conferring with Renfrew once again. Renfrew lifted an arm, and she knew that he was directing different men to rush the gate.
She started down the stairs from the parapets to the portcullis, already being raised. It was heavy; the winches were difficult to man. “This must be closed quickly once our people are in. Have men ready to help them. They may be terrified and hurt …”
May be. She would never forget Walter of Tyne, and the way that he had died, so coldly, so quickly, so mercilessly …
The gates were open. She stood between the two sets, waiting. She stood very still, as if she were incredibly calm.
The tenant farmers, craftsmen, and villagers from the mainland came first. She saw their gratitude in their eyes as they passed her, and saw their pity as well.
The men came next. Garth, Tyler, Geoffrey … half carrying, half dragging Ewan along with them. Tyler spoke to her. “My lady, you can’t do this!”
“Tyler, for the love of God, get in. Get Ewan on in, the others …”
She didn’t recognize all the men. Eleanora’s escort, she assumed.
“Send Eleanora, now!” she shouted to Ulric.
Ulric pushed Eleanora forward, and the woman came.
Mellyora saw her eyes briefly, and saw her thanks, and her admiration.
Small comfort. She shivered. She would make it back inside, she told herself.
But, for a moment she realized that Ulric might seize her.
She might die. And Eleanora would be here …
She closed her eyes, waiting.
“Come out, Mellyora MacAdin!” Ulric demanded.
She heard the sudden thunder of horses’ hooves. Aye, they were ready to storm the gates!
“Close the portcullis!” she cried, and she raced for it.
She was startled when Mallory suddenly came running out of the gates, toward her. “Mallory, have you lost your mind? Get in—” she began.
But Mallory was grim-lipped. He gripped her hard by the shoulders, and was powerful for a man who had spent his days counting rents earned and monies spent.
She was so stunned that she didn’t even fight back at first. Then, as she was thrust inexorably toward the front gate and away from the closing portcullis, she knew.
She didn’t know how or why, but Mallory had willfully and determinedly betrayed her.
When Ulric had known about the movements of those in the fortress, it was because Mallory had somehow sent him the information.
He had known when Waryk would ride, when he would return. And now …
“You bastard! Why?” she cried, aware that it was too late. The Vikings and Normans were rushing by. They’d be caught in the portcullis …
But she would never reach safety.
“For your father, for the Vikings!” he said.
“Not for my father! My father became Scottish!”
Mallory smiled at her ruefully while men rushed around them. “For the riches then, my lady. All these years, I have counted your revenues … all these years. So much … gold, silver, and coins. Now, lady, riches will be mine. I will go a-Viking.”
Ulric himself came riding hard to where she stood. “I’ve delivered her!” Mallory said proudly. “I will be rewarded—”
She screamed as Ulric swiftly swung his sword, nearly decapitating Mallory.
Blood sprayed over her. She tried to run, but the portcullis had closed.
Ulric was on top of her. He reached down and caught her by her hair.
She screamed again in pain, but he released her, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her up to the horse.
He spun the animal around, racing away from the gates.
She heard the horrible screams of the men caught between gates even as they rode from the walls of the fortress. She struggled against Ulric, fighting fiercely.
She could smell burning flesh.
From atop the wall, her men were shouting. The archers aimed at Ulric, but Jon cried out in fierce command. “Nay, you’ll hit our lady!”
And Ulric was free to take her up.
They kept riding. The scent of burning flesh seemed to permeate her nostrils. The screams of the dying rose all around her.
The fortress had been saved, she realized.
But she was lost herself …