Chapter 13
“Sir James was present when the assembly for King Alexander was sent to Bj?rgvin to present the terms before King H?konsson regarding the Isles?” Aonghus repeated after her explanation.
They could see one another through the open bars; Sturan popped his head halfway between his bars while listening. Around the stone wall built between each cell, she spied the traitor’s eyes only through the front door’s bars.
“Aye.” Her reply echoed over someone’s cough three cells down.
“From standing at the hip of King H?konsson” – Sturan joined the conversation he was not part of – “unto the dungeons of King Alexander. Ha! Quite a navigator in political prowess, lassie. You should have stayed a traitor.”
Her shoulders straightened. “I was never a traitor, Sturan.”
“Let me summon Sir James to judge that sentiment,” Sturan picked at her the same as the damn scab she could see on his hand sticking out of the bars from her angle.
“I will have my audience before Lord King Alexander!” she vowed, sternly.
An unseen voice called out before laughing bitterly: “I will have my audience before King Alexander!”
A chorus of jovial ‘Ayes!’ echoed the domain before chuckles and coughs.
“I will as well!” hooted a cellmate to the left of hers across from Sturan, its occupant an old man whose flesh hung on his bones and whose liver-spotted face broke into a rotted gummy grin.
BUURRRPPP! Another ripped off a belch doors down, then bellowed, “So will I, lassie! To deliver that before his Kingship!”
“ENOUGH!!” Aonghus’s shout boomed the surroundings with such force the rats racing the tunnel passage scattered in fear and the larger two-legged rats in the cells silenced.
“Sturan,” her mercenary took aim at the original instigator, “you were present with Rudri before King Alexander when Rudri voiced the grievance being denied a wee bit of turf?”
Slam! Sturan’s hand hit against the bars. “’Twas Rudri’s birthright to hold the Isle of Bute! Along with my own. ’Twas not a wee bit of turf, you arsehole.”
“You were denied your birthright?” Aonghus snorted. “As was I, by my elder brother who cast me out. Shall I be siding with the enemy and whiny as a newborn bairn after? Nae, you move forward, Sturan, you do not attempt to implode the entire kingdom. You are the traitor present.”
Aonghus looked over at her; the emotions her heart bore must have played across her face in the flicker by torchlight, as his chin gave a slight nudge her direction which caused her heart to thump faster. Every turn he championed her like no other, the effect was…unmeasurably addictive.
“Do not fear, Keirah, you will have your audience before our lord king.” Did she believe his oath even as they sat in squalor? Aye. “You will finish what was set forth, I swear it to you with all that I am.” By all the saints, had she ever heard something so completely dashing? Never-ever!
“Red?” she whispered the strange word Sir Brayden had given.
“The Lord Constable’s chambers are red,” he explained and winked at her; the thump quickened, followed by a flush on her flesh hot as the torch outside her cell.
Here they were in filth, condemned as traitors, and was there a time she had seen anything as handsome as the Scotsman across from her?
Nae – never. She had failed him; if not for her sour past with Sir James he would still be breathing the air belonging to freedom.
First chance she got, this would be set to right.
No. Matter. What. It. Took.
Aonghus wasn’t the only one with a will in determination. She gave a stern inward nod.
***
Aonghus leaned against the bars while still standing but observed the exhausted lass across from him, who had sunk onto the floor resting her face against the iron to shutter her eyes after they never rested at the inn.
He popped another pebble at a chunky longtail, who squeaked and darted opposite her leather-clad toes peeping out from under the hem’s skirt.
Aye, scurry away from her, wee beastie! He had kept watch…
how long had they been here? Given daylight snuffed out within the damp hell, it was difficult to tell.
Most lads would have soiled their braies at the summits she had climbed, including stepping into these cells. She’d make a fierce warrior.
He heard a voice as if sensing his thoughts. “You only will march her spirit to death’s door, MacCade,” Sturan warned, eyeing him.
He narrowed his gaze upon the traitor, who was tying the string at the top of his braies after a piss on the back of the cell.
“Words belonging to a bitter Scotsman,” Aonghus rebuked.
“You are a formidable slayer, Sturan, but your choice in alliances is shite. You cannot know what the lass has chanced to be here. She has a stronger spirit than any other I have ever seen before. I do not doubt she will have her say,” he said proudly, and finished dryly at him, “It will simply be too sorrowful you shall not be there to witness it from the executioners block.”
Sturan grabbed his braies-covered crouch vulgarly, issuing a hiss at him before dropping the long tunic over his thighs.
As if on cue, the barred gate gave a groan which rivaled those present, and Sir Sean was seen approaching to announce: “Sturan MacNaller, you are to be questioned within another chamber.”
The guard’s bruised eyes from the broken nose appeared almost two dark storm clouds that matched his glare given at Aonghus. “MacCade, I believe the Lord Constable granted a refusal upon your request; Sir James said so himself to me.”
From years training beside these knights and guards he had developed a keen ability to judge their movements. Look at those shoulders shrugging while Sir Sean speaks. What a lying sack of swine shite. The knight was lying, most likely under Sir James’s order.
“MacCade.” Sturan murmured his last threats for his ears alone, while passing the threshold.
“Do not bother tryin’ to stay watch over the bonny lassie; I would wager you will only fail.
Lord Kollungr’s mind raced wild in an odd sort of way when she escaped; he will crush anything in his way to recapture her fate back into his grasp. ”
Never! The Northman would never have her in his clutches again. Aonghus watched the traitor being led away to a chamber most likely housing a thumbscrew, while a sparrow, who had to be lost, flew by the cells a moment, headed for the tunnel’s entrance.
“Refusal?” He heard a tiny voice across the tunnel from the lass, who had awakened while rubbing her eyes heavily.
Good, she hadn’t heard Sturan’s final words. “Do not fear, Keirah, Sir Sean was unsure.” His brows became one in concern when she rubbed harder. “Cluaran, are you well?”
“Night-shadow, but who can presume if it is night at this moment down here in the darkness?” she murmured, then tried standing.
He gasped, “Whoa!” when she almost tumbled over. A string of Gaelic curses from him torched the air at being unable to reach her.
She grabbed the bars, steadying herself to say eerily, “Ships sailing over mountains, most odd.” Ships sailing over mountains? What was she talking about?
“Keirah.” The hairs on his arms rose in worry at her incoherence. “Perchance you should sit back to rest a wee bit more?”
His heart lightened at seeing a slight upward curve on her lips. “All is well, MacCade, simply the pain in measure taking due…”
***
“Aonghus?” She heard a deep voice interrupt her reply.
Who was summoning her mercenary from where they had entered the tunnel? Straining against the bars, only more cells came into sight. Ugh!
Her attention snapped back toward Aonghus when he let out a long exhale as if in anguish.
“Aonghus, I know you are in the depths here, but where?” the faceless Scotsman hailed. “Sir Sean did not say which cell.”
“Over here,” Aonghus called out, “wee brother.”
“Alec?” she whispered, shocked.
He murmured in reply, “Aye.”
Her reflection was not needed on a water’s surface to tell her the disarrayed appearance she would be presenting toward his kin. Her hand tried to smooth her skirt; it was a lost cause.
A lad few years Aonghus’s younger came into view. She glimpsed the same build, raven hair, but a close-cropped beard on his strong jaw. Most likely Alec had blue eyes. Too bad she was unable to tell for sure while the broad lad charged toward his older brother’s cell – eagerly. Oh, how sweet.
Alec greeted him, the joy in his voice was like a fresh breeze to the stale air as if they all stood on High Street in Edinburgh and not in a dank dungeon. “Tall cocksman! Good to see you!” Tall cocksman?
A grin took her mercenary’s features reluctantly, like he couldn’t help himself. The pair clasped hands through the bars.
“Good to see you as well, Alec,” he replied, the warmth carrying his tone strong. “Four years – what has struck to take you from home? Your Deidre, is she well?”
“Very.” Alec’s grin reached his ears. “With child, plump, and temper sharp as a whip. She sends her regards.” He paused to take a breath then explained, “Our lord king summoned the clans to be ready for King H?konsson’s siege; I knew you to be near – but brother” – Alec gripped the bars between them – “I did not fukin’ think to find you here.
Your temper was always brawny as you, but what were you thinkin’ with that wee bit of pig shite between your ears at striking a knight? ”
The older brother lifted a brow. “Sir Sean, did he fail to mention the purpose?” Aonghus asked.
“Aye.”
“Your noble brother was found to be defending my honor,” she said, humbly.
The younger MacCade turned more – yep, blue eyes.
She absently smoothed a hand over the tresses having escaped the plait down her back.
She blinked several times to clear the tears trying to blur her vision.
Raging hell. Here she was never to have this moment again in her first-time meeting Aonghus’s kin and she was locked away accused of treason.
All she had done was unleash disaster upon the mercenary at every turn.
Looking beyond Alec at the grin held on her by Aonghus, somehow, aye, the vow re-enforced – she must make this right.
Her teeth hurt when her jaw clenched determinedly.
“A lass,” Alec said, shocked.
“Very perceptive of you, brother.” Aonghus’s grin grew. “You will be obliged to find this particular lassie…”
The words died when a stern bellow rocked the granite. “Aonghus!”
She tried desperately to spy a look around the corner, but all she saw was shadows; her attention went to Alec, who muttered: “Callum is present as well.” Alec explained so quickly a wee bit of spittle flew his lips: “Make ready, brother, he is worse than ever before. Bitter as the damned are hot blooded.”
Worse? Keirah spotted the oldest MacCade sibling. By all the saints, they were a matched set of three. Her eyes darted between them; Callum’s only difference was a longer grizzled beard like he had given up. Huh, like he was haunted by his past with Aonghus as well.
On sight, the oldest brother went right at the bars to attack verbally first. “Are you daft there, wee brother?! We are on the cusp of war with the Northmen, and you attack one of your fellow Scotsmen?”
“Seems you are quite skilled in the trade” – Aonghus’s expression turned into ice – “or has time made your memory falter regarding casting me out of the clan?”
“Nae!” Callum spewed the word back and began charging at the bars.
She cried out, picking up a pebble off the ground and throwing it at Callum’s thick skull. On impact, the bullying sibling froze to turn slowly.
Callum gave a long hard look. “Stay to yourself there, lassie,” he warned.
Aonghus lunged with all he was, but Callum bolted a step back out of reach. “You shall not speak to Keirah in this tone!” he commanded fiercely.
“Keirah? This is the lassie?” Callum questioned vehemently, his eyes darting between them when he took a step toward the side.
“This is the cause you are here? Your temper was always to be your undoing; they said you had stolen away a traitorous lass. A bonnie one at that” – Callum raked his eyes over her – “brother, you get your due in this respect – but you did not need to strike a guard over a lass. Think with your mind not your cock. Any lass you trust will grind you into the dirt, you fool!” Those words held pure contempt; had a lass done the chief a wrong in his past as well? Hell, they really were a matched set.
“This lassie’s name is Keirah MacThistlen, her protection is my strongest consideration, and if you speak another cross word toward her I will take a measure of flesh off your hide,” Aonghus threatened, “brother.”
The two sets of bright blues became bulbous after Aonghus’s declaration toward her. An instinct took her over, and she curtsied elegantly – please let this allow for a shred of a brighter impression upon the pair.
Callum gave a snort, but Alec leapt forward gallantly to take her hand in an eager greeting.
“Tall cocksman!” Alec roared joyfully back at Aonghus, then smiled genuinely at her.
“Graceful a lass if I ever saw one,” he gushed, appearing even younger at the trait.
“’My lady, ’tis an honor. Alec MacCade, youngest, smartest, and most handsome with a natural cursing tongue at each turn that befalls every MacCade brother.
However, my apologies for future talk born from the gutter as, well, I am the worst of the three. ” He unleashed a sweeping bow at her.
Aonghus gave a low chuckle under his breath despite the bitterness oozing from Callum. No wonder Aonghus was so taken with Alec and had sacrificed so much for the youngest MacCade.
“Alec, ’tis time to take our leave as the clans have gathered in the throne room,” Callum ordered, gruffly. “Move!”
“Lovely to meet you,” she said softly at Alec, then turned her gaze toward Callum beyond to finish, “You’re stubborn, Callum MacCade; this I behold the same as the furrow upon your brow at me.
’Tis this stubbornness which has blinded your view to the truth directly before your eyes.
” She nodded toward Aonghus. “I would not have survived the days past without your brother. You are mistaken in your appraisal regarding his character; ’tis shown bright each step I have taken by his side.
It will shine to others in the times to come. ”
Callum turned his back in reply and began to mumble under his breath, with Alec trailing: “He abandoned Deidre – true honor bound.”