Chapter 6
We Meet Again
Dawn was breaking when they rode into the courtyard of Keep Kenneth. Una let out a long, slow breath and finally let herself relax.
There were archers on the top of the wall, clearly on high alert.
The points of their arrows followed the group as they rode underneath.
The guards at the door were tripled, all armed, alert, and grim-faced.
The instant they rode under the portcullis, it was lowered, filling the air with a horrible, screeching clanking sound. It made Una flinch.
Gates were closed and locked behind them, the clunks and scrapes of bolts shooting home echoing through the courtyard.
The courtyard itself was empty. Not surprising, since most of the Keep servants would be busy with their own breakfasts.
There were soldiers dotted all over, however, clutching pikes or swords and glaring balefully around.
Directly opposite the now-closed portcullis stood wide, ancient stone steps leading up to the entrance to the Keep proper.
Astrid stood at the top. She wore a rough gown of green wool, and a cloak of Kenneth tartan swung around her shoulders, rippling in the breeze. Her husband stood beside her, brawny arms folded. He stared grimly down at them all.
Una tried not to mind. Kai’s anger wasn’t directed towards them, but rather towards the threat that they posed.
More specifically, it was aimed towards Struan.
The group clattered to a halt in front of the steps, the horses’ hooves echoing.
“Welcome,” Astrid said, her voice carrying clearly and easily. “Welcome to my Keep.”
She was Lady Kenneth, but it was through her line that the lairdship came. Her father, recently deceased, was Laird Kenneth, who’d lured his daughter back home only to try to force her into an arranged marriage. A marriage with Struan Dickson, no less.
Una bit back a wince. This could be an awkward meeting.
She swung one leg over the saddle and slid slowly and painfully down to the ground. Her legs throbbed, and she could scarcely walk straight. Everything hurt. She could only imagine how Struan felt, who hadn’t even been able to brace his weight with his arms.
He sat very still and upright as they cut through the ropes binding him to the saddle.
When a mounting block was placed beside the horse, he lowered himself down with surprising grace, considering that his arms were tied behind his back.
He moved stiffly, but did not allow any pain to show on his face.
It was hard not to be impressed.
Then his gaze fell on Astrid, and his eyes narrowed. She was looking at him too, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
“Ye are welcome too, Struan Dickson,” she said, her voice tight. His name seemed to echo in Una’s ears. “Ye are not free to leave, but I hope that ye will be safe and comfortable here. The Abbess has said so, and her word carries a great deal of weight with me. Untie him, somebody.”
At once, Kai was at her side.
“Is that wise?” he murmured. “The man’s dangerous.”
“Aye, but I don’t hold with folks being tied up like animals,” Astrid answered firmly. “Untie him, please.”
Janson glanced at Thomas, shrugged, then deftly cut through Struan’s bindings.
Struan let out a barely audible gasp of relief. He rolled his shoulders, twisting his neck until it cracked, and gingerly brought his arms around to the front of his body.
“Many thanks,” he said, his voice low and quiet. He began to massage his forearms, probably to bring some blood back into them. He met Astrid’s eye squarely. “It’s good to see ye again.”
Before Astrid could respond, Kai pushed his way between them, already seething.
“Do not address my wife,” he hissed. “Do not look at her. Ye are lucky ye did not marry her, because I would have cut yer throat to free her. Oh, aye, I remember ye, Struan Dickson. I remember ye very well.”
Struan gave a slow smile, teeth bared, and Una felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.
“Enough!” she heard herself say before Thomas or Kyla could intervene. “That’s enough.”
Judging by the grim expression on Thomas’ face, he would have been quite happy to let Kai beat Struan into the ground.
If he could manage it, Una thought, with a faint grin. Struan is stronger than he seems.
Kyla, however, was pale and looked miserable. She’d made no further attempt to speak to her brother. Whether that was due to her hurt at what Struan had said or whether Thomas had warned her against it remained to be seen.
Turning her back to Struan, Una smiled nervously up at Astrid. “We’ve had a long journey. Are there rooms for us? I suppose more importantly, I should ask if there are rooms for him.”
She jerked her head backwards at Struan. Astrid’s gaze slid away from her and landed on Struan, narrowing.
“The Abbess did not want him in the dungeons,” she said at last. “He’s in a specially secured room. My soldiers will take him there and guard him.”
“I’ll go with them.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Una bit her lip and took a step forward, forcing Astrid to meet her eyes.
“I’m not what I was when ye knew me first, Astrid,” Una said softly. “I’m a warrior now. Ask Thomas. Ask anyone. This man is my responsibility.”
Astrid frowned. “How can that be?”
“It’s… It’s a long story. But I’d like to keep an eye on him, if ye don’t mind.”
There was a long silence after this. Una was suddenly struck forcibly by the realization that this woman, her friend, was not just her friend anymore. Astrid was Lady Kenneth. She was powerful. She was somebody.
Somehow, Una guessed that it was Astrid’s permission she’d need to get, rather than Kai’s. When she glanced at her brother, his gaze slipped away from her.
“Very well,” Astrid said at last. “Go and see him settled, then go to yer own rooms. Once ye have rested, we’ll eat in the Great Hall.”
“Agreed,” Thomas spoke up, as if reminding everybody that he was in charge of their excursion.
Una breathed a sigh of relief, nodding. She turned to Struan, who stood directly beside her.
“Now, I thought that yer Abbess had said that I would have the freedom to choose for myself,” Struan murmured, his voice low enough that only Una could hear, leaning forward to put his mouth close to her ear.
“This doesn’t feel like much of a choice, does it?
I suppose she was just a liar, like all her kind. ”
Una jerked away from him. “By all her kind, do ye mean nuns or women?”
He blinked at her. “Neither.”
“Then what… ah, forget it. I have no time for yer games. I will be the one to decide what happens to ye, mark my words. And if ye dare speak another word to Astrid, much less make her feel uncomfortable like before, I shall make ye sorry.”
He let out a low, long chuckle. “Goodness, how jealous ye are. Angry about me paying attention to other women, eh?”
Una rounded on him, grabbing a fistful of his shirtfront just below his collar.
“I can assure ye,” she hissed, “that I feel nothing for ye but hatred. Pure, bloody hatred. Do ye understand me?”
He blinked slowly, like a cat, and tilted his head, grinning.
“If ye say so.”
She shoved him backwards. “I do say so. Now shut up, and don’t talk to me again. I don’t want to hear yer voice, and nor does anybody else.”
At that moment, a group of Kenneth soldiers hurried forward and grabbed Struan, hustling him none-too-gently into the darkness of the Keep. Una made to follow, but Kai hurried forward, stepping in her way.
“I’d like us to spend some time together, if ye don’t mind,” he said, his voice low and a little tight. “I… I don’t see much of ye these days, lass.”
Una gave a wry smile. “Ye have never seen much of me. Both of us never had a chance. Ye, taken by Laird Kenneth, and me, taken by Laird Dickson. What a pair of unlucky siblings we are, eh?”
Kai gave a wry smile. “Maybe our luck is turning.”
“Maybe it is,” Una responded brusquely and hurried away into the Keep, catching up with the soldiers.
They were moving quickly, almost dragging Struan with them. At one point, he lost his footing, no doubt from having to struggle along on numb, painful legs, but the soldiers swore at him and hauled him upright.
“Nobody touches him,” Una called. “He’s my responsibility.”
The group went deeper and deeper into the Keep until Una suddenly feared that they were going to take him to the dungeons after all.
It was a relief when at last they stopped in front of a wide, heavy wooden door, studded with iron knobs and secured on the outside with locks, bolts, and more.
The lead soldier struggled with the locks, cursing to himself, but finally managed to push it open.
They all poured into the room, Una stepping inside last.
It was a plain, bare room. There’d once been a window, now boarded up and chained shut so that not a chink of light came inside.
There was a pile of straw in the corner, which Una realized in horror was meant to serve as a bed, and an open, cracked chamber pot.
Aside from that, there was no furniture, no candles, nothing.
The soldiers dragged Struan inside and shoved him onto the pathetic pile of bedding.
“Now, hold on just a moment,” Una spoke up. “What about food and water? What about light? It’ll be black as pitch in here once that door is shut. I hate the man just as much as ye do, and if we want him properly punished, we need to keep him alive.”
The soldiers turned away from her, and Una realized in rage and horror that they intended to ignore her.
I don’t think so.
She stamped further into the room, coming around to stand in front of the lead man, the one who’d carried the keys to the room.
He was a thin, weaselly sort of man with a long nose and receding sand-colored hair.
When he tried to turn his back to her again, Una reached out and gripped his upper arms, hard. He looked appalled.