Chapter 15 A Captain On Her Ship
A Captain On Her Ship
“Ye don’t seem like yerself, Una.”
Una flinched, dragging her gaze up from where it had rested for the past hour, fixed between her horse’s ears.
Kyla had brought her own horse up alongside Una’s and was staring at her with nervous curiosity. When their eyes met, Kyla gave a nervous smile.
“I’m fine,” Una answered automatically. “I’m just tired.”
Kyla narrowed her eyes. Clearly she was not fooled.
“Nay,” she murmured. “It’s more than that.”
It felt as though the whole of Keep Kenneth had been mobilized.
In a way, maybe it had. Led by Thomas and Kai, seemingly endless soldiers had tramped out of the gates in the dead of night. They were going to the convent, where Brendan waited. Hours later, when the morning mists were still drifting through the fields, the others had left.
Led by Una, a handful of guards and the women were going to Keep Grahame.
Astrid could not come, as the Keep couldn’t be left unattended, not at a time like this.
She’d stood in the doorway with an ashen face, waving them off.
Una supposed it was a good sign that Kai was coming to trust his sister more, since he was the one who suggested she should lead the convoy.
Struan came too, of course, for “proper safekeeping”.
Nobody had explained to Una what this proper safekeeping meant.
She hadn’t dared ask. They travelled in a long convoy, with Struan surrounded by guards in the center.
He was tied to his horse again. If Una glanced over her shoulder, she’d see his dark head above the rest. She might even risk meeting his eyes.
To avoid this, she’d kept facing firmly forward and never glanced back even once.
They would be there soon. The day had slid by with travel, and Una was exhausted.
The urgency and danger of their mission meant that nobody felt comfortable enough to stop for a rest, even for a moment.
The hope was that Laird Dickson would focus on the large army of soldiers leaving Keep Kenneth and not notice the smaller cluster of women leaving by the back door, with his son in their keeping.
They were bringing supplies, since Keep Grahame was hosting all the refugees from the convent.
Una wasn’t sure what would await them there. She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about it. In fact, she’d been working hard to think about nothing at all. It seemed safer.
And now Kyla was riding alongside her, with those thoughtful, soft eyes set in a calm and trusting face that Una had never been able to lie to. Her shoulders sagged, and she felt her determination melting away.
“It’s Struan,” she murmured, her voice so quiet she briefly hoped that Kyla would not hear.
If Kyla hadn’t heard and had asked Una to repeat herself, she was almost completely sure that she would have backtracked and said something else. It would be safer, wouldn’t it?
But Kyla did hear.
For a moment, there was only silence, then Kyla let out a long, ragged sigh.
“I knew it,” she whispered, shaking her head.
Una glanced over at Kyla. “He wasn’t what I thought he would be.”
Kyla sighed again. “I know that ye were fond of him. Too fond, some would say.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected. She hadn’t told Kyla about her intimacy with Struan—of course not—but part of her wouldn’t have been surprised if Kyla had guessed.
“In the past few days,” Kyla began, slowly, “I’ve watched my brother change.
It was always hard, hearing about the hammer of the Dicksons, the monster that was Struan Dickson, and trying to reconcile it with the brother I know.
Knew, rather. I’m not sure he still exists.
I want to believe that he does, but…” she trailed off, shaking her head.
“Once, I knew that my beloved brother, Struan, would never change. I was sure that we’d escape together.
Then I was sure that he was a monster, and I hoped never to see him again.
I thought that was best. Now, I don’t understand anything.
I don’t know anything. All I know is that I wasn’t the one who seemed to be changing him.
” She glanced over at Una, who resolutely did not meet her eye. “I think ye were, Una.”
Una clenched her jaw, staring straight ahead.
“Well, ye were wrong, Kyla. I’m sorry, but ye were wrong.”
She felt an itch between her shoulder blades, as if somebody was staring at her from behind. She knew who it was without having to look behind her.
“Struan has made it clear that he wants nothing to do with me,” Una responded, her voice crisp. “And that’s that.”
There was a long silence before Kyla responded.
“I know my brother,” she said at last, her voice wobbling.
“I know his fears. He pushed me away too when our father began to dig his claws into him. At the time, it hurt, but looking back, I know that he only ever wanted to protect me. He’s trying to protect ye, Una, so he is pushing ye away, too.
I think he is afraid that he will destroy ye. ”
Una swallowed reflexively, glancing over at Kyla. Kyla was staring straight ahead, a frown between her brows, and her hand lingered over her stomach.
Before Una could give a reply, a rider came plunging along the path towards them, out of breath. He was one of the outriders they’d sent ahead to scout out their path.
“What news?” Una barked, standing up in her saddle.
“Nothing bad,” the man gasped, grinning. “Just that Keep Grahame is up ahead, and they’re sending soldiers out for us. We’re nearly there. We made it.”
There was a ripple of relief along the convoy, the news being passed back to those who hadn’t heard it. Una twisted around, watching relief flicker on the faces of the people behind her.
As if drawn by magnetism, she met Struan’s eye squarely. He was looking at her. Of course he was. A shiver rolled down her spine, and she pointedly turned back.
“Let’s hurry on, then,” Una ordered. “We won’t be safe until we’re within the Keep walls.”
There was an audible ripple of relief, row by row, as the convoy entered the gates. Once everybody was inside, the gates were lowered with a resounding clang.
The courtyard was full. Not with market stalls, people, and visitors, but with tents, makeshift shacks, and shelters—everything that could house a person.
Many of the people she saw scuttling around were nuns, most of them familiar faces, but there were other strangers here too, wearing different tartans.
“The refugees aren’t just from the Priory,” came a familiar voice from behind. “Many of the locals fled, too. Laird Dickson’s men have gone through that town like fire through a field of wheat. We’ve run out of space inside, mostly.”
Una turned around to find Freya standing behind her, a wry smile on her face. Kyla gave a squeal of delight, flinging her arms around her friend.
“I’m so glad to see ye,” she gasped. “It’s been a long, tense ride.”
“Well, ye are safe now,” Freya assured her. She looked tired, Una noticed, with dark circles under her eyes. Her long, red hair was loose and tangled, hanging about her shoulders. “Come inside. Una, I have put ye in a room with Senga, and she’s keen to see ye.”
“Why didn’t she come out to meet us?” Una found herself asking.
Freya winced. “Ye will see. Just come on in, it’s about to rain. Men, take him to the dungeons and lock him up safe.”
Her voice changed on that last sentence, becoming harder and angrier. It took Una a second to realize that she was talking about Struan.
Glancing over her shoulder, Una saw that Struan had been cut down from where he was tied onto his horse.
A number of Grahame soldiers advanced on him, grim-faced.
His expression was smooth and neutral, and he allowed himself to be dragged away without a fight.
His gaze met hers, just for an instant, before she looked away.
Then he was gone, and Freya began to walk towards the Keep, gesturing for them to follow.
Inside the Keep was even more crowded and chaotic than outside.
The Dining Hall appeared to have been turned into an infirmary for the wounded and sick at the convent that couldn’t be left behind.
It seemed full. Una caught a glimpse of Sister Abigail darting between beds, her expression grim and focused.
It was just a glimpse, because Freya led them on through a narrow hallway and into a small stone room.
The room was almost full of empty, narrow beds, and at the one in the corner, Senga sat.
She straightened up, brightening at the sight of her friends. Kyla gave a cry and hurried over to her, wrapping her arms around her old friend.
“Is Astrid not here?” she asked, looking a little crestfallen.
Una shook her head, settling down on a nearby bed. “She had to stay with her Keep.”
Senga gave a wry smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The Abbess would have approved.”
“How was she when ye left?” Kyla asked anxiously. “Do ye think Laird Dickson and his army would have reached the convent yet?”
“Hard to say. Depends on how fast they travel, but I think not,” Senga responded. She pulled herself further up on the bed, and Una noticed that her ankle was bandaged.
“Bandits on the road,” she explained, offering a wry smile. “We had to hurry. I tripped. It’s not broken, only twisted. Enough of that, though. The Abbess had messages for ye all, which I was to give to ye myself.”
She handed over small squares of paper. Una took hers, eagerly tearing it open.
“Well, lassie,” began the letter, in the Abbess’ crisp, rounded handwriting, these may be the last words I write to you or to anyone else.”
Pay heed to me. I have chosen to stay in the convent because a captain goes down with her ship. My politicking and choices have put me in this position, and I don’t regret a single choice I have made.
Let me be clear. The board is set, lass, and with me gone—dead, taken prisoner, or whatever the powers that be have in store for me—it is your turn to play the game. So, play.
The key to playing a good game of chess is to act quickly. Not too quickly, but second-guessing and excessive doubt never won anybody anything. Make your choices and stick by them. I have been playing this game for a long time, lass, and it bothers me that I am not able to finish the round.
Struan Dickson is a piece I planned to use well.
Do not neglect him. He is not the monster his father is.
He does not believe Dickson’s lies with the intensity he once did.
He is becoming disillusioned. Love can soften a person’s heart like a fire warms butter, but you must not let him cool.
He is not a lost cause, lassie, he truly is not!
Keep an eye on him. Let him rebuild his relationship with his sister. Kyla is a sweet, loving girl, and I trust her to bring out the best in her brother.
You bring out the best in him, too. Struan has a part to play in all of this before it is over, I just know it. I have seen how he looks at you, lass, and on that head I will say no more. Struan Dickson is a man who needs a chance. Let us be the ones to give it to him, eh?
That’s all I have to say to you. I have watched you grow, Una. Not from a child, but from a terrified, traumatized woman, a victim, into a powerful warrior. Whether we meet again or not, know that my blessing goes with you and the other lasses.
The letter ended abruptly, with only the Abbess’s signature scrawled at the bottom. Swallowing hard, Una laid down the letter, composing herself. She glanced around and saw that Kyla was eagerly reading her letter with tears in her eyes, while Freya and Senga talked in low voices.
Before she even knew what she was doing, Una was on her feet. The others glanced at her.
“I have something to do,” she choked out when Freya lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Tell me, how do I get to the dungeons?”