Chapter 18 The Quickest Siege in the Highlands
The Quickest Siege in the Highlands
The soldiers were arrayed in the courtyard, set out in battle formation facing the only door in the Keep walls. It was heavily barred and had never been broken down. Struan was not afraid about the door or the walls holding. They would hold, he knew it.
The trouble was that Keep Grahame had few soldiers ready to defend it. They’d all been turned out to go to the convent.
But, as he’d told the others, this battle wasn’t about numbers and sheer force. It was about holding on long enough for Brendan, Thomas, and their armies to arrive.
It’s a siege, he thought. With any luck, the shortest siege in the Highlands.
Free of chains and guards, he strode along the top of the Keep wall, peering down at their defenses on one side and the empty fields on the other. There was no moon tonight, and rain hung in the air. Not an ideal night for fighting, but there was no helping that.
“Maybe they’ll wait till morning to attack,” Una remarked. She was scuttling behind him, staying quiet, but he knew that there was nothing she had missed.
Why did she agree to come with me? he thought, not for the first time. He couldn’t have said what demon prompted him to request her to be sent away with him. I didn’t think it through. What will we do, the two of us?
There were many ways to approach a siege as the attacking party.
There’d be siege ladders and perhaps hastily constructed contraptions designed to get soldiers to the top of the walls, where they could get into the Keep that way.
The land around Keep Grahame was too rocky and uneven for anything on wheels, so siege ladders it would be.
They’d try to break down the door, but he was confident that it would hold.
Grahame soldiers moved out of the way as he strode by, eyes wide. Most of them had heard only the basic facts—that Struan Dickson would be roaming free, fighting with them against the Dickson army, and that he should be listened to.
They must be desperate indeed to rely upon me, he thought.
Una caught up to him, jogging alongside him.
“Did ye not hear me?” she snapped. “Perhaps they’ll wait until dawn to attack. I cannot see any approaching army, anyhow.”
“Nay, they’re here all right,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“And they won’t wait till dawn. It would be too much of a risk.
They’ll attack now, hoping to catch us sleeping.
With the door bolted, however, and the walls tall and strong, we can easily keep them off for days or even weeks. It’s a siege.”
Una bit her lip. “I hope ye are right.”
He glanced down at her, her face pale and worried in the moonlight. “I am right. And see, I was right about the army coming, too. They’re here.”
Una’s eyes widened. She dashed past him, leaning over the wall. Struan followed her, already knowing what he would see.
A dark mass moved in the forest, entirely silent. The only real sign that they were there was the fact that the trees and foliage moved in the wind, but the Dickson soldiers did not.
Three men were striding out in the open, heading for the Keep walls. It was hard to make out their shapes and faces, but Struan knew who they were.
Keir was a tall man, deceptively thin and very strong.
He was almost entirely bald, with an exposed scalp that burned in the sun.
His head was like the rest of him, long, thin, and pale.
He always wore a belted plaid, in Dickson tartan of course, and it hung around him like a blanket.
He used to hide various weapons in the folds of the material.
Struan didn’t recognize the two men at his side, both armed and heavy-looking Dickson men. Through breaks in the clouds, moonlight shone down, illuminating their faces. They were grim, thuggish-looking men. Killers.
“Is that ye up there, Struan?” Keir called out, his voice carrying easily. “I’d heard that ye had turned traitor, but I did not want to believe it.”
Struan clenched his jaw. He was aware of the Grahame soldiers shifting around him, eyeing him worriedly.
Kai was down in the courtyard with the infantrymen, ready to fight should the walls or doors be breached.
If they were breached, of course, it would be a disaster.
With their superior numbers, the Dickson soldiers would pour into the Keep, and quickly breach the Keep itself, where Freya and Kyla and those who couldn’t or wouldn’t fight were waiting, breathless.
There was no escape from the Keep. No secret passage, no back entrance. If the Keep fell, they’d all fall with it.
“Go back, Keir,” Struan responded evenly. “My sister, Kyla, is here, and I won’t let her come to harm.”
“Laird Dickson has commanded that she be executed as a traitor,” Keir answered, his voice bright. “He’s heard that she carries a child. The bairn must die, too, before it can be born. I’m to see to it myself.”
Struan clenched his teeth, rage bubbling up inside him. Spies, traitors in the Kenneth Clan had sold them off. Before he could respond, Una was at his side, all blazing anger.
“Lay a finger on my friend, ye bald-headed fool, and I’ll strangle ye with yer own innards,” she seethed.
Far from being shocked or surprised, Keir only chuckled, shaking his head.
Behind him, the dark tide of Dickson men was advancing.
They’d left the shelter of the trees and were inching forward, now only ten feet or so away from Keir.
Less than thirty feet separated them from the walls.
None of them spoke. They were a shapeless mass, barely human.
I know how well-trained and lethal the Dickson army can be, Struan thought grimly. I trained them myself.
It was his father, though, who had insisted on brutality.
Take the heart out of men, he’d said. Spit the heads of captives on spikes.
Let prisoners die slowly, staked and left to rot in the sun.
Kill the women. Kill the children. Make them suffer.
All of this made sure that people would not want to fight the Dicksons, because they knew what would happen if they lost.
“Pull yer men back, Keir,” Struan spoke, forcing himself to stay calm. He could order the archers to fire on the Dickson army, but it would do little good. They hadn’t charged yet.
“I know ye, too,” Keir remarked, almost as if they were having a normal conversation.
He shook a finger at Una. “The Alcorn slave. Laird Dickson remembers ye. He wants ye brought to him, just to see ye, I suppose. Maybe we’ll peel off yer skin and hang ye from the Keep walls, just so that everybody can see what happens to traitors.
Or perhaps we’ll save that punishment for ye, Struan. ”
Beside him, Una flinched at the cruelty of it all.
Struan, however, had been expecting it. He laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping it would reassure her.
Una glanced up at him, eyes glittering in the moonlight, and he felt his chest constrict.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Keir gave a choking laugh and spoke again.
“Ye certainly gave us the runaround, Struan. Made us chase ye like a pack of dogs. No sooner would ye tell us where ye were than ye would be off again. Here, there, and everywhere.”
Struan’s skin prickled. He felt Una’s eyes on him, shocked and angry.
“The maid,” she whispered, understanding dawning. “Ye sent messages through the maid I saw ye talking to at Keep Kenneth. Ye were communicating with them. That’s how the Dicksons knew of our movements.”
He swallowed thickly. “I had the messages delayed. That’s what I said to the maid. I knew that she would relay the information I’d given her whether I wished it or not, but I asked her to wait. And she did. That extra time—”
“The maid has been dealt with,” Keir spoke up, chuckling nastily. “There are consequences to pay for offering delays to Laird Dickson.”
Struan found himself at a loss for words.
He hadn’t known the girl well. His father had countless spies everywhere, and she was just one of them.
Perhaps it had been coin that had tempted her or the promise of a better life.
He’d known men and women to spy for his father to get loved ones released from the dungeons.
It didn’t matter now, did it?
Before Struan could respond, twinges of worry shot through his chest. He frowned, glancing around. Why were alarm bells ringing inside him? What were his instincts warning him about?
What is going on? Something is wrong.
Why is he just standing there, waiting for me to reply?
Tearing his gaze away from Una, who stood as if turned to stone, Struan glanced down at Keir. The man stood placidly before the Keep walls, as if he had all the time in the world. His army was at his heels now.
Waiting.
The maid. Spies.
Fear clenched in his chest, cold as ice. Struan spun around, grabbing Una by the shoulders.
“The gates,” he gasped, breathless. “Who is at the gates?”
Una stared up at him, bewildered. “I… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, does it? Once the gates are open, there’s no way of—” She broke off as a mournful screeching noise echoed through the night.
It was the sound of a bolt sliding back. It was the sound of rusted old hinges opening.
A murmur of fear rippled through the assembled soldiers below, on the Grahame side of the walls.
“The gates!” somebody yelled. “The gates are opening!”
Panic broke out. Struan didn’t need to look to know that the Dickson army was surging forward into silence towards the open door.
Spinning around, Struan grabbed Una by the shoulders, hauling her towards him. He kissed her just once, roughly and quickly. It was all they had time for.
“Whatever happens,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent, “know that ye were the sun and moon to me. I could no more have lived without ye than I could have lived without the sky.”
“Struan, I…”
“Stay here. Take charge of the archers. I know ye would rather be down in the melee, but this is going to be a bloodbath. Too many swords and not enough room, lass, not enough room. The battle has begun, and our siege is over before it got started.”
Her eyes widened with fear, but he gave her no chance to respond.
Turning, Struan sprinted down the stone steps.
Below, he saw the Keep gates standing open.
A man lay stretched out on the cobbles, face down, dead.
His hand still rested against the heavy winch that opened and closed the portcullis.
Struan didn’t recognize the man, but he didn’t think that it mattered anymore.
Before he died, the man had cut the ropes attached to the winch.
The only way to close the gates now was to push them.
Kai stood over him with a bloody sword, breathing hard.
“Help me,” Struan barked, and flung himself at one half of the gates. It was heavy and moved slowly, but inch by inch, he began to ease it shut. Kai applied himself to the other side. Behind them, the soldiers were gathering, white-faced and ready to fight.
I wonder how many of them won’t live to see the dawn? Struan wondered bleakly.
“Did ye know about this?” Kai grated.
Struan shook his head. “Nay, I did not. Do ye believe me?”
Kai met his eye for a moment and pursed his lips. “Aye. I think I might.”
The gates were halfway closed when the Dickson army arrived. Men flung themselves at the other side of the gates, flinging them open and undoing the work of a full minute in a matter of seconds.
Struan was knocked backwards, hitting his head against the cobblestones.
His vision blurred, and he struggled to sit up.
More and more enemy soldiers were pouring into the courtyard, and getting knocked off one’s feet in battle meant death; everybody knew that.
He’d lost sight of Kai and found himself hoping that the man had survived.
And then, through the crowds, Struan saw a familiar face.
Keir stood tall in the chaos, a wide smile on his face. A sword glittered in his hand.
Struggling to his feet, Struan prepared himself for a rush.
The rush never came. Instead, Keir turned and began to climb the stone stairs that led to the top of the Keep walls.
Una, Struan thought as a second wave of soldiers knocked him off his feet one more.