Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
"He's comin’."
Duncan's words cut through the morning quiet like a blade. Alpin looked up from the supply inventory he'd been reviewing to find his scout standing in the tent entrance, rain dripping from his cloak, his expression grim.
"Ashcombe?" Alpin asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Aye, me laird. Messenger just returned from his camp. Brought this." Duncan held out a sealed letter, the wax bearing Ashcombe's ducal crest.
Alpin took it, breaking the seal with deliberate calm despite the ice flooding through his veins. Beside him, Mhairi had gone very still, her hands frozen in the act of folding bandages.
He scanned the contents quickly, his jaw tightening with each line.
"MacDougal,
Your letter was received and noted. I appreciate your passion, though I find your reasoning misguided. The girl was legally purchased. Your continued interference constitutes theft under both English and Scottish law.
Since you refuse to see reason, I am left with no choice but to demonstrate the consequences of your actions. My forces will move against your territory within two days. We ken ye are at the village. This is not a threat, it is a statement of fact.
Return what is mine, and this unpleasantness can be avoided. Refuse and watch your people suffer for your stubbornness.
I await your response with diminishing patience.
Henry Ashcombe, Duke of Ravenscar"
"What daes it say?" Mhairi asked.
"That Ashcombe is a fool who thinks he can intimidate me intae submission." Alpin handed the letter to Mhairi so she could read it herself. "And that we have less time than I hoped to prepare."
Mhairi's face went pale as she read. "Two days. He's givin’ us two days before he attacks."
"Which means he's likely already movin’ his forces intae position." Alpin strode to the tent entrance, scanning the village square where his warriors were beginning to stir. "Duncan, how many reinforcements have arrived from the castle?"
"Twenty warriors arrived last night. More are expected by midday, Callum sent word that he's bringin’ another fifty, plus militia from the surroundin’ farms."
"Nae enough." Alpin's mind raced, calculating numbers and odds. "Even with the militia, we're looking at over one hundred fighters total. Ashcombe has at least a hundred, probably more if Graham's contributed men tae the cause. We need more."
"Then we use the terrain tae our advantage," Peadar said, walking up to them from behind with Kenina. "We ken this land. Ashcombe daesnae. We can funnel his forces intae kill zones, use the village buildings as cover, make every warrior count fer two."
"Aye." Alpin nodded. "But first we need tae fortify.
Every weak point in the village perimeter needs tae be shored up.
Every family needs tae ken where tae shelter when the attack comes.
" He turned to Duncan. "Gather the Council.
And send riders tae Fraser and Morrison, tell them if they're going tae commit warriors tae this fight, we need them now, nae next week. "
"Aye, me laird."
As Duncan hurried off, Alpin turned to find Mhairi watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"What?" he asked.
"Ye're very calm about this. About the fact that we're about to be attacked by a force twice our size."
"Panic willnae help anyone. Clear thinkin’ and good strategy will." He moved closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasnae afraid. Fer what could happen if Ashcombe breaks through our defenses."
"Then we make sure he daesnae break through." Her voice was steady despite the fear in her eyes. "Tell me what ye need me tae dae."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of frantic preparation.
Reinforcements trickled in throughout the morning, first Callum with his promised fifty warriors, then smaller groups from allied farms and villages. By noon, they had perhaps a hundred and ten fighters assembled, with more expected before nightfall.
Alpin moved through the village with Peadar, identifying defensive positions and weak points in the perimeter.
"Here," Peadar said, pointing to a gap between two buildings. "They'll try tae push through this section. It's the widest openin’ and provides the clearest path tae the village center."
"So we block it." Alpin gestured to several warriors. "Get carts, barrels, anything heavy. Stack them here tae create a barrier. Leave gaps fer our archers tae shoot through but make it impossible fer mounted riders tae pass."
The warriors moved immediately, hauling whatever they could find to create makeshift fortifications. Alpin watched for a moment, then continued his circuit of the village.
Every building was inspected, every possible approach mapped. Every warrior assigned a position and a backup position in case they were overrun.
"Stockpiles?" he asked one of the village elders.
"Food and water distributed tae three separate locations, me laird. If one is destroyed or captured, we'll have reserves."
"Good. And the children?"
"Hidden in the cellars of the strongest buildings. We've reinforced the doors and left them supplies in case... in case the worst happens."
Alpin's jaw tightened. The thought of children huddling in cellars while battle raged above them made his chest ache. But it was better than the alternative.
He found Mhairi near the village hall, working with Kenina to organize medical supplies.
They'd set up multiple aid stations throughout the village—small caches of bandages, herbs, and water positioned where they could be accessed quickly during the fighting.
"How many injured can we treat simultaneously?" he asked.
"With the supplies we have? Maybe ten at a time." Mhairi's hands moved efficiently as she sorted supplies. "We’ll keep preparing bandages but after that, we'll have tae improvise, tear clothin’ fer bindings, use whatever clean fabric we can find."
"And pain relief?"
"Limited. We have willow bark tea fer mild pain, but naething strong enough fer serious injuries. People will suffer, Alpin. There's nay way around that."
He knew she was right, but hearing it stated so plainly still hit hard. "Dae the best ye can. That's all anyone can ask."
By evening, the village had been transformed into a fortress. Barricades blocked every major approach. Archers were positioned on rooftops with clear sightlines to the perimeter. Warriors stood ready with weapons sharp and armor secured.
And everyone waited.
Alpin climbed to the highest point in the village, the roof of the hall, and surveyed their preparations.
From there, he could see the entire defensive layout, could spot the weak points they'd tried to shore up, the strong positions they'd exploit.
"Impressive work."
He turned to find Peadar joining him on the roof, his own eyes scanning the village below.
"It'll have tae be enough," Alpin said. "Because ready or nae, Ashcombe's coming."
"We'll hold." Peadar's voice was certain. "I've fought against worse odds with worse preparations. Yer people are ready, Alpin. They ken what's at stake."
"Their homes. Their families. Their lives." Alpin's hands clenched on the roof edge. "All because I refused tae hand over one woman tae a bastard who thinks he owns her."
"All because ye did the right thing, trying tae stop those men and their auctions," Peadar corrected.
"They are fightin’ tae save their wives, their sisters, their daughters, nae just Mhairi.
Dinnae doubt that. Nae now, nae ever. What Ashcombe's daeing, this attack, this violence, that's on him, nae ye. "
Alpin wanted to believe that. But when the wounded started arriving, when families lost loved ones because he'd chosen to protect Mhairi over surrendering her, would he still feel so certain?
"Come on," Peadar said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Yer betrothed is looking fer ye. Something about wanting tae check the armor yer men brought ye before the fightin’ starts."
Alpin found Mhairi in their tent, his armor laid out on the cushions, her expression focused as she examined each piece.
"What are ye daeing?" he asked.
"Makin’ sure everything's secured properly. Donnach told me once that more warriors die from poorly fitted armor than actual combat—straps that break at critical moments, buckles that come loose, gaps that leave vital areas exposed." She held up his breastplate. "This strap is frayed."
"I have spare straps."
"I ken. I already replaced it." She set the breastplate down. "And I checked yer sword, yer dirk, yer shield. Everything's ready."
Alpin moved closer, taking in her determined expression, the way her hands shook slightly despite her steady voice. "Ye're afraid."
"Of course I'm afraid." She looked up at him. "The man who thinks he owns me is bringing an army to the village. People are going tae die tomorrow because of me. How could I nae be afraid?"
"It's nae because of ye."
"Yes, it is." Her voice was fierce now. "These people wouldnae be in danger if I wasnae here. That's just fact."
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.
"Men just attacked their village and took their women, so what ye say isnae true. And these people would be less protected, less organized, less prepared if ye hadnae been here helpin’ today.
Ye coordinated the medical supplies, helped fortify defensive positions, kept everyone focused when panic tried tae set in. Ye did that, Mhairi."
She buried her face in his chest. "Promise me ye'll be careful tomorrow. Promise me ye willnae take unnecessary risks."
"I'll be as careful as the battle allows."
"That's nae a promise."
"It's the only one I can make." He tilted her chin up, so she had to meet his eyes. "But I promise ye this, I will fight with everything I have tae protect this village, these people, and ye. And I will dae everything in me power tae come back tae ye when it's over."
"Ye better." Her voice was thick with unshed tears. "Because I didnae agree tae marry ye just tae become a widow before the weddin’."
"That's nae goin’ tae happen."
"Ye dinnae ken that."
"I ken that I'm nae letting some English bastard take away the future we're buildin’." He kissed her forehead. "Now come. Let's get some rest. Tomorrow's goin’ tae be a long day."
They lay together in the darkness, neither really sleeping, both trying to memorize the feel of being in each other's arms in case the next day took that away.
Dawn came, grey and cold.
Alpin stood in the village square, checking his sword one final time as warriors assembled around him. Faces he knew well—Callum, Duncan, Fergus—mixed with militia farmers who'd rarely held a weapon in their lives before that day.
"Listen up!" His voice carried across the square. "Ashcombe's forces will come from the south. They'll expect us tae break easily, tae scatter when they charge. We're nae going tae give them that satisfaction."
He pointed to the barricades. "Archers on the roofs, infantry behind the barriers. When they charge, let them come close, waste their energy on the fortifications. Then hit them hard when they're tired and frustrated."
"What about their numbers?" someone called. "We're outnumbered two tae one!"
"Aye, maybe we are. Which means every one of us needs tae fight like we're worth two of them." Alpin's voice was hard. "This is our land. Our village. These are our people. We ken every buildin’, every alley, every hidin’ spot. Use that. Make them pay fer every inch they take."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the assembled warriors.
"What about the women and children?" another voice asked.
"Already secured in the reinforced cellars. Armed guards posted at each entrance." Alpin looked around at his people. "Our job is tae make sure they never need tae use those guards. Our job is tae hold this village until Ashcombe realizes attackin’ us was a mistake."
"And if we cannae hold?" The question came from one of the younger militia, his voice shaking.
"Then we fall back tae secondary positions and keep fightin’. We dinnae surrender. We dinnae break. We make them earn every victory so completely that it feels like defeat." Alpin raised his sword. "Are ye with me?"
"Aye!" The response came from dozens of throats, fierce and determined.
Alpin caught Mhairi's eye across the square. She stood with Kenina near one of the medical stations, in preparation for the wounded. When their eyes met, she pressed her hand over her heart, a silent gesture of love and faith.
He returned it, then turned back to his warriors.
"Tae yer positions," he ordered. "And may God have mercy on Ashcombe's soul, because we willnae."
The warriors dispersed, moving with practiced efficiency to their assigned posts. Alpin made one final circuit of the defenses, checking that everyone knew their role, that weapons were ready, that the barricades would hold.
Then he took his position at the main barrier, sword in hand, and waited.
The sun climbed higher. Birds sang in the trees, oblivious to the coming violence. Somewhere a child cried in one of the cellars, quickly hushed by a parent's soothing voice.
And then, cutting through the quiet like a knife—
Horns.
From the treeline to the south, the distinctive blast of war horns echoed across the fields. Alpin's hand tightened on his sword hilt as dust rose in the distance, marking the approach of mounted riders.
"Here they come!" someone shouted.
Alpin could see them now, a line of riders emerging from the forest, banners streaming.
Ashcombe's ducal standard, unmistakable even at this distance. And beside it, Graham's colors, the scarred laird apparently having thrown in completely with the English duke.
"Archers!" Alpin's voice rang out clear and strong. "Nock arrows! Wait fer me signal!"
The sound of arrows being drawn from quivers, strings creaking as bows were pulled taut. Fifty archers on the rooftops, all waiting for his command.
The riders charged, hooves thundering across the field, weapons raised, war cries echoing.
Alpin waited. Let them come closer. Closer.
"Now!" he roared. "Fire!"
Arrows streaked through the morning air, a deadly rain descending on the charging riders. Men screamed. Horses went down, throwing their riders. The charge faltered—
But didn't break.
They kept coming, crashing into the barricades with the force of desperation and rage.
And the battle began.