Chapter 20 #2
Lowering her knee with a stomp, she snapped her fists into a fighting position.
Gellir’s self-exile was her fault. It was up to her to get him out of it.
She had an idea. But it would take careful planning.
With new resolve, she leaned forward onto her left leg, moving her right arm and leg in a wide, swift arc that spun her around.
A flash of movement startled her.
Someone ducked out of the way at the last instant, narrowly avoiding a kick to the head.
It was Adam. Feiyan’s brother.
Her eyes widened. She staggered, nearly falling before he caught her.
“Och, m’laird!” She scrambled back out of his grasp, hastily untucked her hiked skirts, and bobbed a curtsey. “Forgive me. I didn’t see ye there.”
He shrugged, as if dodging lethal kicks was something he did every day. “I didn’t mean to be seen.”
Merraid didn’t know what to say to that. But she was horrified that, for the second time in two days, one of Gellir’s siblings had managed to sneak up on her. Stealth seemed to be a trait innate to the Rivenlochs.
He nodded at her. “You’ve been learning from Feiyan.”
“Aye, m’laird.” Belatedly, she realized why he’d managed to so skilfully evade her kick. Like Feiyan, he was the child of Lady Miriel, Sung Li’s prize student. “Do ye know taijiquan?”
“Not much,” he admitted with a one-sided smile. “Just enough to duck. And please don’t call me ‘my laird.’ The last time we met, I was a rat-catcher.”
She couldn’t help but grin at that. “Did ye want somethin’?”
He sighed and ambled over to the parapet to gaze out at the firth. “Only to get away from the chaos in the courtyard.”
“What’s happenin’?”
He raised a brow. “The missive from Gellir?”
“Oh.” She lowered her eyes. “Aye.”
“Do you believe it?” he asked, still staring into the distance. “Do you believe he left to wander the countryside?”
She hesitated. How honest could she be with him? His expression was inscrutable.
“Nay,” she breathed.
“Neither do I.”
A forbidden thrill went through her, as if they shared a secret.
He continued. “Gellir would never defy the king like that.”
“Nor abandon his bride.”
“Right.” He sniffed. “So what are we to do?”
“We?”
“You care about him, aye?”
Bloody hell. Did everyone in the Rivenloch clan know she had feelings for Gellir? Did they all have the sight, or were they just a brood of rumor-mongering wagtongues?
She gave him a reluctant nod.
“So you must be planning something,” he reasoned.
She chewed thoughtfully at her lip. Should she trust him? What she schemed was a serious undertaking. One that could have dire consequences. She didn’t want to put anyone else at risk. Still, it might be wise to have someone who was aware of her intentions, in case things went awry.
“If I tell ye,” she decided, “will ye swear not to tell another soul?”
“If you wish.”
She gulped. Imagining was one thing. Saying it out loud was another. “I’m goin’ to Toulouse to beg an audience with the king. And I’m goin’ to fight for Gellir’s honor.”
He arched a surprised brow.
She held her breath. Now that Adam had heard her audacious plot, she wondered if he would change his mind. Break his vow. Inform the others.
But his face betrayed no other emotion. He turned back to lean on the parapet and stared out at the surging firth. “You think you can convince him?”
She straightened, lifting a proud chin. “Aye.”
“Then there’s something you should know about the king.”
She clenched her fists, prepared to defend her position. “I already know ’tis a reckless plan to stand up to Malcolm. I know the odds are against me. So say what ye will. But I won’t let fear get in my way, even if it means—”
“He’s not at Toulouse.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The king. He’s not at Toulouse. He left. He’s gone to Perth.”
She stared at him in wonder. Wasn’t he going to condemn her rash plan? Or try to talk her out of slogging across Scotland to challenge King Malcolm?
Then he cocked his head, giving her a quick critical perusal from head to toe. “And he’s unlikely to give an audience to a maidservant.”
She narrowed her eyes in glittering determination. She’d had enough of being underestimated. “I don’t intend to give him a choice in the—”
“So you’ll need a disguise.”
She froze, stunned speechless.
Did Adam approve of her plans?
He could have knocked her over with a puff of air.
“Perth is four days’ journey,” he continued, “if we go on foot. That’s what I’d advise. Horses will only get in the way. As for attire…”
“Wait. We?” she said when she was able to find words. “Nay. Nay. I mean to go alone.”
“Alone?” He seemed genuinely baffled. “That would be foolhardy.”
“I don’t want to get anyone else in trouble—”
“Trouble?” His eyes sparked to life, as if she’d just said his favorite word. “Look. You’ve obviously never done this kind of thing before. And I have. Countless times.”
He wasn’t wrong. His reputation for intrigue and impersonation were legendary.
But she shook her head. “I got him into this mess. ’Tis up to me to get him out of it. ’Tis somethin’ I must do for him alone. As his friend.”
“I’m his brother,” he said pointedly. “Do you not think I might have an interest in rescuing him as well?”
He had a point. Still, as the son of a laird, there was much more at stake for him. “I can’t ask ye to take such a risk.”
“I don’t think you did ask me.” He pushed off from the wall and cast glances in both directions, looking for witnesses. “But time’s wasting. If we’re going to set out on this mission, we should do it while everyone’s distracted, nattering away in the courtyard. Come on.”
While she sputtered in indecision, he seized her hand and led her down the stairs. She was still breathless when they emerged in the great hall and he released her hand.
“Go to the buttery,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you there. I have an idea.”
Several moments later, Adam returned. He was dressed in his armor and carrying a large satchel, into which he stuffed several cheeses.
“We’ll take the tunnel,” he said, nodding toward the back wall of the buttery, which was covered by a tapestry. He must have remembered it as the passage the Rivenloch forces had used to steal into the castle four years ago.
She caught him by the arm. “The gate at the bottom is locked now.”
“Do you have the key?”
She shook her head.
“No matter,” he said, grabbing a small torch from the wall to light the way. “I’m sure I can open it.”
He was right. They navigated through the long tunnel—feeling their way over the rugged rock, past dripping, mossy walls, down the steep slope that led to the sea.
When they reached the iron gate, he pulled a small leather bag of tools from the satchel.
Using two slender steel picks with bent ends, he was able to work open the rusty lock.
Then he dug deeper into his satchel and pulled out a dull brown tunic and cowl.
“Put these on,” he said. “You’re going to be a monk.”
He extinguished the torch by tucking it into the wet sand between two boulders at the mouth of the cave. Then, while he stood guard at the gate, she changed into the monk’s robes. They dragged a bit, but the hood effectively hid her face.
After she’d changed, he took her servant’s garb and stuffed it into the satchel. Then he donned his helm and pushed open the unlocked gate, which squeaked on its hinges.
She pulled the hood around her face and stepped out.
Making their way across the damp sand, they may have looked odd—a warrior and a monk strolling along the shore of the firth.
But only a few fishermen witnessed their passage.
And once they climbed back up the grassy slope and found their way through the forest to the main road, they looked as common as any pair of travelers.
Adam had warned her the journey to Perth would take four days. But Merraid wasn’t about to complain. Once she began to experience the hazards of the road, she was glad she hadn’t set out on horseback alone.
Thieves abounded in the woods. Fortunately, they were intimidated by Adam’s armor and discouraged by the presence of his holy companion.
But Merraid was certain a band of outlaws would have considered a lone maidservant an easy target.
Of course, she would have disabused them of that notion with a few slashes of her jian.
Still, fighting off villains would have wasted valuable time.
They walked all day, stopping by the roadside stream to rest, drink, and nibble at the cheese he’d brought. The skies had been only partly cloudy and blessedly free of rain. But as the last sliver of sun slid behind the horizon, she shivered with cold.
“Shall we stop for the day?” Adam asked.
“I can go on.” She wouldn’t let a bit of a chill get in the way of saving Gellir.
“We’re making good progress. There’s no need to suffer. Besides, I know a good keep nearby.”
“A keep?”
“You didn’t think we’d be sleeping on the ground, did you?”
Actually, that was exactly what she thought. It had never occurred to her to seek lodging. A maidservant with no coin wasn’t likely to find accommodations.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ll stay with the Wallace clan.”
She wondered how a man from the Lowlands of Scotland knew the Wallace clan. But an even more pressing matter concerned her.
“What if they ask me somethin’…holy?” Not only did she have a distinctly feminine voice, but she knew only a wee bit of Latin.
He gave her a sly grin that reminded her of Feiyan. “That’s easy. You’re a monk, aye? You’ve taken a vow of silence.”
She smiled back at him. It was ingenious.
Using only his wits, he managed to secure a place for them by the hearth in the great hall of Wallace.
Adam greeted the laird like an old friend, mentioning how well the new cathedral at St. Andrews was coming along because of his generous contribution.
Even Merraid couldn’t tell if that was true or not, but the laird seemed content for it to be so.
She slept soundly in the rushes, and they crept away at dawn to continue their journey.
By the end of the second day, Merraid’s feet ached, and her lips were chapped. But she wouldn’t complain. She’d walk barefoot over sharp rocks in a windstorm if it meant saving Gellir’s honor.
Adam came through again. The Laird of Graham had a sizable keep, room at the hearth, and, by curious coincidence, had also donated funds for the cathedral at St. Andrews.
Their good fortune, however, turned sour on the third day.
Storm clouds glowered down from the beginning, turning from white to gray to black as their mood darkened. By midday, heavy with moisture, they released their store of rain in a torrent that threatened to beat the travelers into the mud.
Adam tried to shield her from the worst of it. But even ducking into the roadside trees couldn’t keep her from being soaked by day’s end.
Thankfully, just before dark, Adam spied smoke from a wooden keep on a hillside nearby. He motioned her to follow him.
“What clan is it?” she called out over the din of the storm.
“I don’t know.”
She winced in disappointment. It appeared their luck had run out. But she would be grateful to sleep in a dovecot if she could only get out of the cursed rain.
As it turned out, Adam could foment connections out of thin air. Using hints and vague references, a bit of knowledge and a bit of guesswork, he managed to convince the laird—the head of Clan Drummond—that they were long-lost cousins who had fought side-by-side years ago in a clan battle.
Adam’s skills were truly amazing. And terrifying.
Merraid decided the woman who made Adam fall in love with her would have to be clever indeed to match his brilliance. She’d also have to hang on for dear life, for Adam was not only bright, but dangerously impulsive.
Nonetheless, tonight Merraid was grateful for his shameless deceit.
As she drifted off within the folds of damp wool, steaming dry by the fire, she wondered how Gellir was faring.
She tried to imagine him nestled warmly in a friendly clan’s keep.
But she thought it was more likely, considering his current disposition of self-sacrifice, he was shivering under the trees in the pouring rain, miserable in his drenched cloak.
She murmured a quick prayer that good fortune would find him and keep him safe.