Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
"Ye'll want tae read it yerself," said the man at the dock.
He held out the folded letter with the practiced neutrality of a man who understood that the contents were not his problem.
"From Torquil MacLeod, by order of the king."
Lachlann took it.
He did not open it immediately. He looked at the vessel first.
A single craft, smaller than the ships he'd seen from the tower the night before, which meant those others were holding position somewhere beyond the headland, waiting.
There were six men on the dock beside the messenger, armed but not drawn, standing with the particular stillness of men who had been told to look capable and had taken the instruction seriously.
He broke the seal and read.
It did not take long.
The language was formal and the meaning was not complicated:
By the authority of the king, the Lady Alba was tae be returned tae her family's custody without delay.
Her presence in Lachlann's household was described, in careful diplomatic phrasing, as an irregularity that required correction. Torquil MacLeod was named as the instrument of that correction.
Lachlann folded the letter.
"Ye've read it?" the messenger asked.
"I have."
"And?"
Lachlann looked at him steadily. "And ye'll leave me lands."
The man's expression didn't change, but something in his posture did a slight adjustment, a recalibration. "Me instructions are tae await yer response and escort the lady."
"Yer instructions," Lachlann said, "are nae me concern.
Mine are these: the lady's family situation is nae what Torquil MacLeod has represented tae the king.
When the truth of it is made clear, this letter will carry no more weight than the paper it's written on.
" He held the man's gaze. "In the meantime, ye'll leave.
Every man of yers, and the vessel with ye. "
"Ye cannae tell us tae leave."
"I can. Ye're on me land," Lachlann said. "And I'm tellin' ye tae leave it."
The silence on the dock stretched.
The messenger looked at him, looked at the men ranged behind Lachlann, five men, hands not on weapons but not far from them, and made the calculation that men in his position made when the arithmetic was clear.
"We'll hold position in the water," the man said. "Beyond the port."
"Ye'll dae as ye see fit," Lachlann said. "And I'll dae as I see fit. That's understood between us."
"Torquil willnae let this lie."
"I dinnae expect him tae." Lachlann stepped back from the dock's edge, a clear dismissal. "Safe crossin’."
He watched them push off without waiting to see if the courtesy was received. Beside him, James came up quietly.
"They'll signal the others," James said.
"Aye." Lachlann watched the small vessel move back through the grey water. "They will."
"How long dae ye think we have?"
"Less time than I'd like. More than they're countin' on." He turned from the water. "Get Fearchar and the others. I want scouts on the headland by nightfall and men on every approach road by mornin’. Tell them nae tae engage unless engaged. I want eyes, nae blood. Nae yet."
"And the village?"
"Warn them." He was already moving up the path from the dock. "Quietly. I dinnae want panic, but I want them ready."
The great hall had the particular charged atmosphere of a place that understood something had shifted. The men assembled quickly.
Word traveled in a castle the way it always did, faster than anyone sent it, and by the time Lachlann spread the map across the long table, there were a dozen of his senior men ranged around it, reading his expression and drawing their own conclusions.
"The vessel that came in just now'," Lachlann began, "carries a royal warrant fer the return of the Lady Alba. It's signed in the king's name but Torquil's hand is behind it."
He let that settle before continuing. "There are additional ships holdin' beyond the headland. We dinnae yet ken how many men they're carryin', but we'll assume the worst and be glad tae be wrong."
He moved his finger along the map. "The eastern approach is the most vulnerable, the tree line comes close enough tae the road tae conceal a significant force until they're nearly at the gate. I want that gap closed."
"How close dae ye think they'll come?" asked Ruadhri, the eldest of his captains, a lean grey-haired man who had seen enough of these things to ask precise questions.
"Close enough tae make their point," Lachlann said. "Whether that means the gate or the glen, I dinnae yet ken." He looked around the table. "What I dae ken is that they're expectin' us tae hand her over or hesitate. We willnae dae either."
"The king's warrant—" Ruadhri began.
"Is based on a misrepresentation of her circumstances," Lachlann said flatly. "I'll be writin' tae the king directly. Until that letter reaches him and he has the truth of the matter, we operate as though that warrant is worth naethin'. Because it is."
"And if Torquil moves before yer letter arrives?" Ruadhri pressed.
"Then he moves, and we answer it." Lachlann held the older man's gaze. "Are ye with me on this, Ruadhri?"
Ruadhri looked at him for a long moment. The look of a man running sums, checking the weight of loyalty against the weight of a royal warrant, and then he straightened.
"Aye, me laird," he said. "We're with ye."
No one else argued. They knew him well enough for that.
"Ye," Lachlann said, turning to the youngest captain at the table. "The weapons stores, what's our state?"
"Swords and axes are well stocked," he replied. "Arrows we could stand tae double. I can have men fletchin’ through the night if ye want."
"Dae it." He looked to the next man. "And ye, the horses?"
"Ready. Twenty fit fer hard ridin', another dozen fer support."
"Good." He scanned the faces around the table. "Naebody moves without me word. Naebody engages without me word. If Torquil's men so much as cough on me land, I want tae hear about it, but I dinnae want blood shed over a cough. Is that clear?"
A chorus of ayes.
"Then get tae it."
No one argued. They moved.
He was going through the weapons stores when he heard her step in the corridor. He knew it, had known it for long enough now that the sound of it registered before he consciously identified it, and he straightened from the crate and turned.
Alba stood in the doorway of the armory, her eyes moving quickly over the room. The crates being opened, the blades being checked, the particular purposeful activity that left nothing ambiguous about what was being prepared for. She looked at him.
"Tell me what's happenin'," she said.
"We've received a royal warrant fer yer return tae yer family," he said.
He had decided, after the solar, that directness was what she required from him, and he gave it to her now without softening.
"Torquil's behind it. The men who delivered it are holdin' beyond the headland.
I've sent them off the dock and put scouts on the approaches. "
She absorbed this with the stillness she had when information landed hard but she was determined not to show it.
"What can I dae?" she said.
"Stay safe," he said.
Her expression told him she'd expected that and hadn't liked it. "That isnae an answer."
"It's the one I have fer ye right now." He held her gaze.
"I'm nae keepin' ye from this. Ye ken what's happenin', ye ken why, and if there are decisions tae be made that concern ye, I'll come tae ye.
But right now, what I need is tae ken that ye're inside the walls and nae somewhere I have tae divide me attention tae protect. " He paused. "Can ye give me that?"
She held his gaze for a long moment.
He could see her working through it. The same as she always did, weighing the request against her own instincts, deciding whether the logic was sound or merely convenient.
"Aye," she said. "But ye'll tell me. When ye ken more."
"Ye have me word."
She nodded once and stepped back from the doorway.
She didn't leave immediately. She stood for a moment with her hand on the doorframe, looking at the room, at the crates and the blades and the organized, quiet readiness of it.
And just then he thought he could see her placing herself inside the reality of it, accepting the shape of what was coming rather than looking away from it.
Then she left.
He watched the empty doorway for a half-second before turning back to James.
"The eastern stores," he said. "Let's see what we have."
The messenger arrived before midday.
He came in at a hard pace, his horse lathered, and he was off before the animal had fully stopped and moving toward Lachlann with the particular urgency that meant the news had not improved in the telling.
"Torquil's men," the lad said, breathing hard. "In the village. Three of them, me laird, they came up the south road an hour past. They're nae causin' trouble yet, but they're there, and the village kens it."
"Armed?"
"Aye."
"How many in the village total at present?"
"Market day, maybe hundred or more of our own. Plus the men."
Lachlann was already moving. "James. Six men, horses, light arms. Now." He turned to Ruadhri. "Hold the castle. Nobody in or out that ye dinnae personally ken. If anything comes from the north while I'm gone, ye send for me immediately."
"Aye, me laird."
"And find the lady. Tell her I've gone to the village and I'll be back within the hour. Tell her tae stay inside."
Ruadhri's expression shifted by approximately one degree. "Aye," he said.
The ride to the village was short and gave him nothing useful to do except think, which was rarely helpful.
He thought about the ships beyond the headland. He thought about the letter in his pocket with the king's seal on it. He thought about Torquil, who was patient in the way that men were patient when they had decided they were owed something and were simply waiting for the right moment to collect.
He thought about Alba in the armory doorway, her hand on the frame, looking at the blades laid out on the table.
He put that thought down and rode to the village. It felt like the longest ride.
The three men were at the far end of the village market when he got there. They were standing beside their horses with drinks in their hands and expressions designed to communicate that they were simply passing through, which convinced no one.
The villagers had arranged themselves at a careful distance, not cowering––his people didn't cower––but giving the space that armed strangers warranted.
Lachlann dismounted.
The tallest of the three turned to face him with a studied ease that had been practiced. He was broad and fair-haired, with Torquil's look about the jaw.
"MacKinnon," the man said.
"Ye're on me land," Lachlann said. "State yer business or start ridin'."
"We're travelers," the man said. "Restin’ our horses."
"Ye passed three other villages." Lachlann looked at him steadily. "Try again."
The man's jaw tightened. "Torquil MacLeod sends his regards. He asks that ye reconsider the warrant that was delivered. He's a patient man, but patience has a limit."
"Tell Torquil MacLeod his patience is welcome tae run out whenever it likes.
" Lachlann kept his voice even, conversational, the tone he used when he wanted the words themselves to carry the weight without needing his volume behind them.
"And tell him that the next men he sends onto me land without invitation will nae be received so courteously. "
"Is that a threat, MacKinnon?"
"It's an accurate description of what will happen." He let the silence sit for a moment. "Ye have about ten seconds before me men finish circlin’ behind ye, at which point this conversation becomes less comfortable fer everyone. I'd use the time."
The man looked at him. Looked at James, who had positioned himself with the calm, slightly bored expression of a man who had done it many times. Looked at the other five, ranged at the edges of the market square.
He finished his drink, set the cup down on the nearest stall with a deliberateness that was supposed to communicate something, and swung up onto his horse.
"Ye'll regret this," he said.
"I've been told that before," Lachlann said. "Good day tae ye."
He watched them ride south until they were out of sight, then turned to the nearest villager.
"Are ye all right?" he asked.
"We're fine," she said. "They didnae touch anythin'. Just stood there bein' large about it."
"I'll have men stationed at the south road until further notice," he said. "If ye see anything, anyone ye dinnae recognise, anyone askin' questions, ye send word immediately. Dinnae approach them yerself."
"Aye, me laird." She looked at him with the frank appraisal of a woman who had known him since he was a boy. "Is it bad?"
He considered the honest answer.
"It may become bad," he said. "We're prepared fer it."
She nodded, satisfied with that in the way his people were satisfied with the truth when it was delivered plainly.
He left two men at the road, turned his horse, and rode back through the grey afternoon toward the castle.
The gates came into view and he saw her before he'd fully expected to. A figure at the upper window of the east wing, still and watching, the dark shape of Captain visible beside her. He now followed her everywhere.
He didn't raise his hand. He simply held her gaze for the moment it took to pass beneath the window, and it was enough.
Inside the courtyard, he dismounted and gave the horse to the stable lad. James appeared at his shoulder.
"The men are ready," James said. "All posts filled. Scouts reportin’ every two hours."
"Good." Lachlann looked up at the sky, grey and flat, the kind of sky that gave nothing away. "Double the night watch."
"Aye." James paused. "And the lady?"
"She's in the castle," Lachlann said. "That's where she stays."
He crossed the courtyard toward the keep, and somewhere above him he heard the window close.