Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
"They're here."
The words cut through the pre-dawn silence like a blade. David jerked awake, his hand already reaching for the sword he'd kept beside the bed. Beside him, Elinor sat up, her face pale in the dim light filtering through the window.
"How many?" David was already moving, pulling on clothes with practiced efficiency.
The guard at the door—he'd posted two outside their bedchamber—spoke quickly. "Scouts count at least a hundred. Maybe more. They're a mile out and movin' fast."
"Sound the alarm. Get everyone to their positions." David buckled his sword belt, checking that his dirk was secure. "And find Tristan. Tell him I want him at the main gate in five minutes."
"Aye, me laird."
The guard disappeared, and moments later the alarm bell began to ring—three short bursts, then silence, then three more. The signal they'd prepared. The one that meant war had arrived.
"David." Elinor was out of bed now, wrapping a robe around herself. "What do you need me to do?"
"Get dressed. Go tae the great hall. That's where the wounded will be brought." He crossed to her, cupping her face in his hands. "Remember what we discussed. Stay away from the walls. Stay away from anywhere arrows can reach."
"I remember." She gripped his wrists. "You be careful. Please."
"Always am." He kissed her hard and fast, then released her. "I love ye."
"I love you too. Now go. Your men need you."
David left her and took the stairs three at a time, his mind already shifting into battle mode. The castle was coming alive around him—men rushing to their positions, servants hurrying to secure supplies, the organized chaos of a well-drilled defense.
He reached the battlements just as the first light of dawn broke over the eastern hills. And there, spreading across the valley like a dark stain, was Langley's army.
"Christ," Tristan breathed beside him. "That's more than a hundred."
"Aye." David's jaw tightened.
More than a hundred men. Against his garrison of maybe eighty trained fighters, plus whatever clansmen could wield a weapon. They were outnumbered.
But they had the walls. The high ground. And the desperation of men defending their home.
"Archers tae the battlements," David called out, his voice carrying across the wall. "I want every approach covered. Anyone who tries tae scale these walls, ye put an arrow in them. Understood?"
"Aye, me laird!" came the response from dozens of throats.
"Spearmen at intervals along the wall. If they get ladders up, ye push them back. Dinnae let anyone gain a foothold." He moved along the walkway, checking positions, making sure everyone knew their role. "And someone get oil heatin'. If they try tae ram the gates, we'll need it."
Below, in the courtyard, more men were assembling. David could see his captain organizing them into defensive units—some to reinforce the gate, others to serve as reserves, ready to respond wherever the attack was strongest.
"There." Tristan pointed. "Movement in their ranks."
David followed his gesture and saw a figure on horseback moving to the front of the enemy force. Even at this distance, David could make out the crimson cloak.
Langley.
"He's goin' tae parley," Tristan said.
"Or try tae." David watched as Langley rode forward, accompanied by two men carrying what looked like a white banner. "Let's hear what he has tae say."
They met at the gate, David on the walls looking down, Langley on his horse looking up. The English knight's face was flushed with excitement or anger, David couldn't tell which.
"MacDonald!" Langley's voice carried clearly in the morning air. "I've come for what's mine. Send out Lady Elinor, and we can end this without bloodshed."
"Lady Elinor is me wife," David called back. "Legal and legitimate, as declared by the Regent himself. Ye have nay claim tae her."
"She was meant to be mine! You stole her through trickery and lies!"
"I won her fairly at a gathering her faither arranged. If ye're angry about that, take it up with Lord Royse. But ye'll nae be takin' me wife."
Langley's horse shifted restlessly beneath him. "The Regent’s letter means nothing. He was deceived by your Highland tricks. Lady Elinor belongs with me, and I will have her back. One way or another."
"Then ye'll have tae come take her." David's hand rested on his sword hilt. "But I warn ye, Keppoch has never been breached. And it willnae be breached by the likes of ye."
"We'll see about that." Langley yanked his horse around. "This is your last chance, MacDonald. Send her out, or I'll tear down these walls and take her myself."
"Come try it, ye English bastard."
Langley spurred his horse back toward his army. The white banner was lowered.
"Well," Tristan said quietly. "That went about as expected."
"Aye." David watched Langley's army begin to organize itself into attack formation. "Here they come. Get tae the gate. Make sure it holds nay matter what."
"Aye, me laird." Tristan clasped his shoulder briefly. "Try nae tae get killed, aye?"
"Same tae ye."
Tristan disappeared down the stairs. David remained on the battlements, watching as Langley's forces began their advance.
They came in waves. The first group, maybe forty men, carried shields and a crude battering ram fashioned from a massive log. Behind them, archers were taking position, preparing to provide covering fire.
"Archers!" David called out. "On me mark! Wait until they're in range!"
The enemy advanced slowly, shields raised against the anticipated arrow fire. Fifty yards. Forty. Thirty.
"Now!"
The air filled with the whistle of arrows. David watched as the first volley struck, some finding gaps in the shield wall, others thudding harmlessly into wood. Men screamed. Several fell. But the advance continued.
"Again!" David nocked his own bow. He wasn't the best archer, but he could hit a target at this range. "Keep the pressure on them!"
More arrows flew. More men fell. But Langley's forces were well-trained, well-disciplined. They maintained formation, kept advancing.
The battering ram reached the gate.
BOOM
The sound of impact echoed across the courtyard. David felt it through the stones beneath his feet.
"Achers get ready!" someone shouted. "Wait until I give the word," he told the men. "We only get one chance at this."
BOOM
The gate shuddered. David could see cracks starting to form in the wood. Not much, nothing that would breach yet, but enough to show that Langley's ram was doing damage.
"Now! Fire."
The effect was immediate — the attack broke, the ram abandoned as Langley’s men fell back in chaos.
The battering ram fell silent. Men scattered.
"Keep firin’!" David called to the archers. "Dinnae let them regroup!"
But even as he said it, a second wave was advancing. These carried ladders, at least a dozen of them, all heading for different sections of wall.
"Spearmen! Prepare yerselves!"
The first ladder hit the wall to David's left. He ran toward it, arriving just as the first enemy soldier's head appeared over the parapet. David's sword took him in the throat before the man could get his feet under him.
The body fell backward, taking two more men with it. The ladder wobbled but stayed upright.
"Push it back!" David grabbed one side, joined immediately by two clansmen. Together they shoved, sending the ladder toppling backward with three more men still clinging to it.
But there were so many ladders. Too many. David could see them all along the wall, his men fighting desperately to keep the enemy from gaining the battlements.
To his right, one of Langley's soldiers made it over the wall. He engaged with a MacDonald clansman, their swords clashing. David moved to help, but another ladder was going up directly in front of him.
He grabbed a spear from a fallen man, used it to shove the ladder away. More arrows whistled past his head. Langley's archers had found their range now, forcing defenders to keep their heads down.
"Me laird! Behind ye!"
David spun just in time to block a sword thrust from a soldier who'd made it onto the wall. The man was good—trained, disciplined, moving with the economy of an experienced fighter.
They traded blows, steel ringing against steel. The man pressed forward, trying to drive David back toward the parapet edge.
David let him think he was succeeding. Let him overcommit to a thrust.
Then David sidestepped, caught the man's wrist, and used his momentum to send him tumbling over the wall.
"The gate!" someone shouted. "They're at the gate again!"
David ran to where he could see below. A new group with a fresh battering ram was advancing, learning from the first group's mistake. They'd doused their ram in water, protecting it from the oil.
BOOM
The gate shuddered again. David could see the cracks widening.
"Tristan!" he called down. "Reinforce that gate! We cannae let them through!"
"Already on it!" Tristan's voice came from below, along with the sound of heavy beams being braced against the gate.
BOOM
A ladder went up to David's left. He grabbed the top, pushing with all his strength. But there was weight on it, men climbing fast. His arms burned with the effort.
Then someone was beside him—Malcolm, of all people, adding his strength to the push. Together they managed to topple the ladder.
"Ye should be inside," David panted. "This is nay place fer the steward."
"With respect, me laird, damn that." Malcolm grabbed another spear. "I can still fight."
BOOM
The gate was really starting to give now. David could see splinters flying with each impact.
"We need tae fall back tae secondary positions!" one of his captains called. "If that gate breaks—"
"The gate holds!" David's voice cut across the chaos. "We hold this wall, we hold that gate, and we send these bastards back tae England in pieces! Understood?"
A ragged cheer went up from his men. But David could see the strain on their faces. The exhaustion setting in. They'd been fighting for—what? An hour? Maybe less? It felt like days.
Another ladder. Another desperate fight to keep the enemy off the walls. David's sword arm was getting heavy, each swing requiring conscious effort.
He blocked a thrust from yet another soldier, countered with a slash that opened the man's arm. The soldier fell back, and David pressed forward, driving him toward the edge—
Pain exploded across his shoulder.
David staggered, his left arm suddenly weak. An arrow. The shaft protruded from his shoulder, just below the joint.
"Me laird!" Someone grabbed him, pulling him back from the wall edge.
"I'm fine." David broke the arrow shaft off, leaving the head embedded. Nay time tae deal with it properly. "Back tae the wall. We hold it."
But the wound was bad. Not fatal—nowhere near vital organs—but deep enough that his left arm was already losing strength. He could still fight one-handed, but his effectiveness was halved.
"David!" Tristan appeared beside him, his face streaked with blood and soot. "Ye're hit."
"I noticed."
"Ye need tae fall back. Let the healer take care of ye,"
"Nae yet." David scanned the wall, assessing their position. They were holding, but barely. Exhaustion was setting in. Men were wounded, flagging. "How's the gate?"
"Reinforced. But it willnae hold much longer if they keep at it." Tristan grabbed his good shoulder. "David, we need fresh men. We're runnin' on fumes here."
"Send up the reserves. Have them relieve the most exhausted defenders." David moved toward another section of wall where the fighting was particularly fierce. "And get word tae the archers tae focus on anyone carryin' a ladder. We cannae keep fightin' them off if they keep comin'."
BOOM
The gate shuddered again. David could hear the wood cracking, see the huge beam behind it starting to bow.
"Fall back from the gate!" he called down. "Get ready tae defend the courtyard if they breach!"
But even as he gave the order, something changed in the battle's rhythm. The assault on the walls was slowing. Ladders were being pulled back. Langley's men were withdrawing.
"What are they daein'?" Tristan voiced the question David was thinking.
David watched as Langley's forces pulled back to a safe distance, regrouping. The battering ram fell silent. The arrow fire stopped.
"Regroupin'," David said. "Probably thought they could take us in one push. Now they're realizin' it's goin' tae be harder than they expected."
"How long dae ye think we have?"
"Hard tae say. Could be minutes. Could be hours." David pressed his hand to his wounded shoulder, feeling blood seep between his fingers. "Use whatever time we get. Get water tae the men. Tend the wounded. Repair any damage tae the defenses."
"And ye?"
"I need tae check on Elinor. Make sure she's alright." David moved toward the stairs, his shoulder throbbing with each step. "Then I'll be back. This isnae over yet."
"David." Tristan caught his arm. "That wound needs tendin'. Properly. Before ye lose too much blood."
"After I see me wife."
"Stubborn bastard."
"Aye. Always have been."
David made his way down from the walls, moving through a courtyard that looked like a battlefield. Wounded men were being carried to the great hall. Others were catching their breath, gulping water, checking weapons.
They'd held. Against superior numbers and a determined assault, they'd held.
But David knew this was just the first round. Langley would come again. Harder. Smarter. He'd probe for weaknesses, find ways to exploit them.
And next time, they might not be so lucky.