Chapter 25
The only thing that was going to break would be Sèidrich’s neck! Callum narrowed his eyes on the feature. Aye, it was possible. Snap that neck like a fuking twig – once free.
Callum glanced at Lord Kolson, whose horse whinnied in the wind while their wagon dipped into a rut.
How was the Northman’s condition? True, he did not like the gestr, but no man deserved punishment for trying to serve his kingdom.
This was most likely the root in the Northman’s bold attempt at an escape.
It was the one element both of them shared – loyalty to their kingdoms.
Nella’s wide-eyed expression met his before Sèidrich tore his charger back into the lead. Callum looked at the guard on his left, who glared while riding and leading the wagon’s steeds by the bridle.
Was the distance enough to speak with Nella without the guard hearing?
Leaning his head over his right shoulder, he made a movement like brushing his lips over his mantle.
At the same moment he murmured, “Do not fear, Nella. Once we have discovered whom the Benefactor is we shall find a way from here.” He paused, glancing up; the guard did not hear him.
However, Nella looked over her shoulder, meeting his gaze, her eyes narrowed by determination. He inwardly smiled. She had!
“I believe you were heard, my friend,” Brayden muttered under his breath.
“Aye.”
“Silence!” the guard who rode alongside ordered them.
Brayden stared at the guard. “You hold a close resemblance to a Northman I knew from Largs. A most ill-tempered soul as well, never cared much for him. It was fitting when he met the end of a lightning bolt.” The guard’s eyes bulged.
“True story, cross my heart and hope to… well, ahem, given the current circumstances I will leave off the last part,” he quipped.
Humph. The guard showed his back toward them again.
“Well done, Sir Brayden,” Callum whispered. “Jested another into lowering his guard, so to speak.”
“Aye.” Brayden’s mirth vanished as he said for Callum and Nella’s ears alone, “The guards who surround us, Gallowglass?”
Callum answered, “For certain.”
“Aye, the double-bladed weapons strapped across saddles and backs as if axes are all in fashion upon this campaign season’s battlefield,” Brayden countered. “Plan yet?”
“Nae,” Callum explained while his eyes remained locked on Sèidrich. “Other than making certain Sèidrich’s hands are removed for touching the lady.”
“Solid plan.”
“I thought so as well.”
The forest broke open before them with a tall bailey wall appearing like a massive granite cloud bank in gray.
Sgàrlaid Castle. It had to be from what Nella had described.
The tall pines surrounding were dwarfed against the giant turrets on the castle before them.
So, if they were here, it meant her cruel husband was alive – not for long.
Brayden swore under his breath. “Shite.” Exactly.
Creak. The portcullis groaned at its huge weight being lifted in the two-story gatehouse they’d reached. An impressive bailey outfitted with stables on the left, kitchens straight ahead, cylindrical granary storage, and the scent from smiths’ fires filled the air.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Shite, look at all those forges!
By the stables there were stations for the numerous smiths lined up in a tidy row under an overhang.
All the smiths’ faces were as red as the flames they labored over pounding the metals into submission with each hammer fall.
The Benefactor meant to pound Scotland into his mold with those very weapons being created.
Shite, all those swords lined up were more than what Stirling’s royal guard commanded.
The smiths were…. young. A burly lad wiped his brow with his sleeve while he cast a curious look at them before an older warrior barked, “Stop staring!”
“Nella, I believe we have found the missing lad from the croft tenants.” Callum glanced up, seeing her tiny nod.
“Drop him in and rouse him,” ordered Sèidrich while he stared at Holger. Two warriors leapt like wolves yanking the Northman from the saddle.
Splash! They tossed the hulking body into the trough. A shout echoed the bailey from Holger before a ruckus in laughter by the guards who had escorted them here sounded.
“See, my lady! Lord Kolson still lives,” Sèidrich boasted when Holger flapped his arms same as a rooster before grasping the trough’s sides while emerging from the water gasping for air.
Sèidrich dismounted before reaching for Nella.
In a determined set by her mouth, stomp, her feet landed onto the cobblestone as she slipped down – alone.
Sèidrich curled his lip before he gripped her arm harshly at her spirited silent action. Aye, the bastard loses that hand first – then snap the neck.
“Bring them!” Sèidrich hollered, glancing their way. “And for fuk’s sake someone grab the Northman before he defies all logic by his Viking ancestors and drowns. See he is bound tightly as well.”
The ropes on Callum’s ankles were cut loose, but his numb hands stayed bound before his waist. Jumping off onto the wet cobblestones, Holger spotted them for the first time – with one open eye. Water dripping off his chin, the Northman almost appeared grateful at seeing him; almost.
Brayden fell into step beside him on the left with Holger on the right as they watched Nella being dragged slightly before them when she tried glancing back.
“They took your Lady Fawnella, I see,” Holger’s raspy voice commented.
Sèidrich pulled Nella so hard she stumbled. “Not for long,” Callum vowed darkly.
As they entered the archway the height of a cloud in the sky, they reached the great hall whose beams soared above.
Robust torches and fresh herb scented rushes and colorful tapestries and a heartily lit hearth would have made for a welcoming portrait under normal circumstances.
This was anything but normal. Sèidrich nodded at the guards who had escorted them inside as they took their leave.
Bang. The colossal door slammed behind them. A long table was atop a dais with two side tables ebbing down, but all was eerily silent with exception of a pop by the fire that had two tall back chairs set before it.
Clap. Clap. Clap. His eyes shot toward the hearth where the person clapping stood facing away from them. Medium height and build with reddish hair fit for a devil.
“Well done! My Lady Fawnella, well done.” Clap. Clap.
Nella blanched as she gasped the words, “It cannot be. Keithen!”
Keithen. Her late husband’s eldest son and Sir Sean’s older brother, and now the Benefactor. No way!