Chapter Thirty One
Geoffrey Mercer thundered into the village heedless of people and animals scurrying out of his path. He raced through the narrow dirt roads until he came to the village green. Behind him, the soldiers under his command fell in line, their horses dancing and snorting as they stopped short.
Geoffrey scanned the onlookers with disdain, nothing but filthy peasants, no one with any worth at all. He withdrew a scroll from his saddlebag and unrolled the large parchment. A dowel on the end weighted it down. Then he thrust his arm out, shifting in his seat to be sure everyone could see.
“I am looking for this man. My tracker believes he and his party came through here.”
People turned away or gazed up at him with wide terrified eyes, but no one spoke up.
Pasting a smile on his face, he called out, “Come forward. Tell me what you know, and you shall be rewarded.” Then his smile disappeared, and he kicked his horse in the flank.
Turning about, he grabbed the torch from the hand of his second in command.
He raised the flame high. “Keep your silence, and I shall burn your stores to the ground.”
Gasps and outcries arose among the growing crowd. Then a man came forward, wearing a tattered tunic and gripping a felt hat in his fingers. “I know that man,” he said, his voice low.
“Speak up,” Geoffrey snapped.
The man flinched. “I know that man,” he said louder.
Geoffrey slid from his horse and motioned for the man to come forward. He held up the picture again of Randolph Tweed.
“Are you certain?”
Gripping tighter to his hat, his shoulders framing his ears, the man stuttered, “He ... he came through here. He had a woman with him and three other men.”
“Are you certain?”
The man cast his eyes to the ground. “Aye,” he said, his shoulders rising higher. “I’m sure of it.”
“When they left, were they all on horseback. Did anyone walk?”
“He rode off on horseback. The others were in a wagon.”
Geoffrey handed the parchment to one of his men. “Ride out,” he shouted.
“Sir Knight, ye mentioned a reward.”
Geoffrey scowled at the peasant. “As your reward, I will spare your life. But if you’ve lied to me. I will return and cut out your tongue.” Then he turned his horse around and raced back the way he’d come.
The road sliced straight through a forest. Tree branches wove a tangled canopy overhead and boasted buds of springtime, but Geoffrey did not take the time to ponder the beauty or feel the welcoming kiss of Spring’s sunshine slanting through the branches.
His mind remained fixed on one thing only — vengeance.
“Geoffrey,” one of his guards said.
“Sir Geoffrey,” he snapped. “You were there when Lord Paxton knighted me.”
“Sir Geoffrey, the trail splits up ahead. A single horse headed north into the mountains. The wagon headed east. Do you want to split the men and track both?”
Geoffrey looked back at the dozens of knights on chargers behind him and smiled.
He would never tire of seeing such a glorious sight.
He had no intention of breaking up the men in his command.
Shaking his head, he snapped at his man, “And weaken our defenses? Nay. The others are of no consequence. Only Randolph Tweed matters. Follow the rider.”
JOANIE AND MATHEW PASSED the night asleep in Alec’s arms while he pushed their mount ever higher.
He welcomed the first light of dawn, which revealed purple mountains silhouetted against the brightening sky.
Joanie and Matthew stirred, awoken by the jarring movements of their horse as the Highland landscape grew increasingly more rugged.
More than once, they had to climb down and walk their mount over stretches of treacherous rocks.
Still, he pushed their horse and their own stamina to maintain their lead.
The English soldiers would have easily overtaken them on the open road, but their large chargers had to struggle over the same jagged rocks, steep inclines, and through the same dense woods.
Just as the sun rose overhead, a loud cry rent the air. “Cruachan!”
Joanie straightened, squeezing Matthew closer. “What was that?”
Her fear penetrated Alec’s heart. “It was the war cry of Clan Campbell. Do not be afraid, but remain still,” he warned, wrapping his arms tighter around Joanie and the wee, Matthew. “In moments, we will be surrounded.”
Joanie held her breath as darting shapes streaked through the trees like racing specters in the shadows.
Suddenly, men like none she had ever seen came thundering down the mountain.
Their muscled bodies were clad in draping plaids that showed their sinewy bare legs.
Some wore laced boots and tunics while others had bare chests and feet despite the chill in the air.
Their hair hung in wild disarray well past their broad chests.
In their strong hands, they gripped battle axes and swords.
Some brandished small targs and others looked down at her through the hairs of their crossbows.
Behind her Alec called out words she did not understand. “Tha mi a charaid Laird Caimbeul.”
The warriors fell silent but kept their weapons at the ready.
“What did you say?” she whispered, her heart pounding. She fought to hold on to her courage in the presence of the wild Highlanders.
“I told them I am a friend of their lairds,” he said in answer. Then he cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted. “Alba gu bràth.”
One man stepped forward then, a smile playing about his lips. Joanie could not help but stare at his raw masculinity. He caught her eye and dipped his head to her. She blushed, having been caught staring and lowered her gaze.
“Cuiribh uaibh bhur buill-airm,” the man said.
“He just told his men to lower their weapons,” Alec whispered in her ear. She looked up and watched as the men sheathed their swords and lowered their axes and crossbows.
“I am Bryden Campbell, my laird’s second. Who are ye?”
“Ye’re both safe,” Alec whispered in Joanie’s ear as he swung down to the ground. “I am Alec MacVie.”
Joanie watched Bryden’s eyes light with recognition. “The MacVie name is well known to our clan. Alba gu bràth,” he said, offering Alec his hand. Then he jerked his head up the mountain. “Ye and yer friends are welcome. I will take ye to our laird.”
Alec smiled up at Matthew who stared wide-eyed at Bryden. “Aye, ye’re right,” Alec said, his voice low. “The Campbells are fierce warriors.” Then he lifted Matthew down.
“My young cousin has a valiant heart,” Joanie said as Alec helped her to the ground.
Alec turned and watched as Matthew walked straight up to Bryden.
“Blessings to ye, wee one. What is yer name?” Bryden said, hunkering down to be eye-level with the child.
“He is Matthew,” Alec answered for him.
Bryden canted his head to the side, still holding Matthew’s gaze. “Ye’re a quiet one, are ye? Just like our laird.” Bryden stood then and put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “Just remember to speak up when it counts.” Then Bryden looked back at Alec. “Come then.”
When they reached the village, Alec and Laird Donnach Campbell locked eyes from across the green. Alec saw the surprise flash across the laird’s features before he started toward Alec.
The Campbell’s were stalwart supporters of the cause.
On several occasions, Alec had run weapons and coin gathered by the Campbells down to Haddington.
He and the laird had also stolen a chest of silver marks on its way to Douglas Castle, which had been seized by an English lord.
Donnach was a man of great instinct and few words, which made him ideal for Alec to work with.
“I’ve received no word of yer coming,” Donnach said simply but not unkindly when he stood in front of Alec.
“The abbot has not sent me.”
He held Alec’s gaze for several moments before he said, “Ye’re in trouble?”
Alec nodded. “And I brought it with me and only a few hours ride behind, I’d wager.”
“How many?”
“A cavalry, at least forty strong.”
Slowly one side of Donnach’s lips curved. Alec knew he had just whetted his appetite for battle.
Donnach cupped his hands around his lips. “Gaisgich Rium,” he shouted. Warriors, to me. As the men gathered around, Alec could feel their bloodlust and passion, which poured into Alec, fueling his own lust for battle.
“I will prepare my men,” Donnach said, turning once more to Alec. “Take yer woman and the lad to the keep. Eat and rest. We will take position in the mountains in one hour.